


Echoes Of Your Name Inside My Mind

by alienharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Robin Hood References, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:02:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienharry/pseuds/alienharry
Summary: Harry, with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his hair tied in a tight bun, was sweet, shy, and stayed away from the spotlight. Everyone could see his charisma, but he held it in such a reserved manner that it was always overshadowed by someone who wasn't as deserving of attention.Until Louis came along.-Louis and Harry are criminal master minds, acting as London's personal Robin Hoods. Louis sleeps with wealthy men, and Harry uses his knowledge of technology to steal from their accounts to donate to charity. Their system is nearly perfect...Nearly





	Echoes Of Your Name Inside My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _Don't Blame Me_ by Taylor Swift
> 
> I'd of course like to thank my amazing beta [Lynda](http://wait4ever.tumblr.com) for helping me fine tune this fic. Also thank you to [Sammie](http://britpickerhl.tumblr.com) for all of your help. Always.

There’s sweat running down his back, his hair - even in its tight bun - is fraying and frizzing in the humidity, and his thighs are burning from the briskness of his movements, but Harry can’t stop.

“Target is moving,” he alerts to Louis, never ceasing his steps. He doesn’t wait for a response as he picks up his pace. If, for even a moment, their target escapes view, if they don't get him in their grasp tonight, their chance could be lost forever, and the entire mission is wasted.

Greg James, 32 year old partner at James-Mills Law Firm in central London, is the man of the hour at the LUX Gala. No, he isn’t getting any awards, nor is he even of special interest for the general attendance, but to Louis and Harry he’s the only reason for attending. They’re both dressed to the nines, trimmed and tamed to fit in with the black-tie crowd, but it’ll all be a loss if they can’t get any face time with Greg.

“I lost him - ”

“Bathrooms at 9 o'clock,” Harry cuts his partner off through their mics. He can’t let Louis rest for even a moment, not when they’re just as close to catching him as they are to losing him. “I’ll block him from the north side.”

They go in opposite directions it seems, closing in on him. Just as their target is about to take a left into a lounge that neither of the two have access to, they catch up to him, and - as gently as he can - Harry nudges against the target’s shoulder, making his drink fly out of his hand, spilling onto Louis and shattering glass onto the floor.

Louis gasps as the cold liquid drenches his shirt. Harry watches, appearing horrified, knowing that it’s going to stain and that it’s all his fault.

“I am so sorry,” Harry tries to apologize. “I didn’t - ”

Greg waves his arms, cutting Harry off. “I’m fine, I’m alright.” He turns to address Louis. “What about you, love?”

Louis looks up from the damp mess of his shirt, eyes pinched as though he’s about to yell, but when his eyes make contact with Greg’s, they relax, softening enough to make Harry scoff audibly. Louis ignores him and smiles at their target. “I think you dropped something.”

Greg laughs, “I suppose I did. Are you alright?”

“My chest is a bit cold,” Louis admits, “but I’d say a drink could warm me right up.”

“I think I can manage that.”

Louis escorts him away to the bar, leaving Harry behind, sweaty, out of breath, and pretty fucking annoyed. He finds his own way back to the main bar, keeping a close eye on where Greg’s hand is cradling Louis’ against the countertop.

Harry holds in what he really wants to say and instead, speaks into the mic, “That was a close call.” From the bar, he can see Louis raise his eyebrows in agreement.

Everything went according to plan, but it doesn’t stop the small rage boiling inside Harry at the sly way Louis tilts his neck as if inviting Greg to make a move. It’s their job, but it hurts more and more with each target.

➴➴➴

Harry met Louis in their first year in Uni. They didn’t have any classes together, but they were assigned to the same dorm, and from the first time Harry saw Louis he was hooked. There was something about the smaller man that intrigued Harry to the point of drawing him in every time he so much as blinked.

It was never a competition between the two, they never fought about… well, about anything really. Harry, with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his hair tied in a tight bun, was sweet, shy, and stayed away from the spotlight. Everyone could see his charisma, but he held it in such a reserved manner that it was always overshadowed by someone who wasn’t as deserving of attention.

Until Louis came along.

There wasn’t a doubt in Harry’s mind that Louis deserved attention and _more_ , just for existing. He walked around in cozy sweaters, his hair fluffy and soft as though he’d just woken up at any hour of the day. He looked as though he should blend into the crowd, but he was witty and charming, and the drama major he was going for all but pushed him straight into the eye of the general public.

He was born to be a star and, for Harry, he shined as bright as one.

When their first year at uni came to an end, neither boy wanted to go home. They balanced each other out in such a way that they yearned for the other’s company the moment there was a wall between them. They couldn’t very well retreat to their hometowns for a few months and expect everything to be alright.

(They very well could, but Louis always made everything sound drastic in a way Harry couldn’t say no to.)

They rented a flat together just off campus, a two bedroom so they could at least have their own space, and immediately fell into a rhythm together. They ebbed and flowed the entire summer, moving as one and making memories neither would forget.

But then university came around, revising took over most their time, and before they knew it, rent was due, and they didn’t have that month’s cheque.

There were a few panic-ridden nights that had Louis pacing a hole in the kitchen floor as Harry searched quick ways to get cash before Louis came up with the most brilliantly idiotic idea Harry had ever heard.

At the time, Louis had been dating a complete and utter prick, as Harry described him, but he was _loaded_ , and he’d occasionally give Louis his card to pay the tab at the pub or grab snacks at the theatre. Louis was used to memorizing scripts and stage directions, and managed to memorize his card number, security number, and expiration date. At the time, it was just something to do as he waited in line, but staring at the sign-in page of their living complex made him think maybe there was something more behind it.

It took two days to convince Harry that they should at least try it, and if Louis’ boyfriend ever found out about it, they could pay him back. The argument pushing him over the edge being that their rent was due by midnight, and if they didn’t pay, they’d be out on the streets.

So Harry agreed and they did it.

And when they weren’t caught, they did it again.

And again.

And just when they were about to pay their rent again, Louis was dumped. At first, Harry was worried it was because he knew what they were doing, but Louis was quick to assure him it was because his family didn’t approve of Louis’ familial wealth - or lack thereof.

Feeling spiteful, Louis told Harry to take out a years worth of rent, and Harry - always quick to do as Louis said - followed through. They both immediately felt guilty watching the five-digit number leave his back account, so Harry dropped half of it for charity before he sent the other half to their bank account.

Six months went by and Harry and Louis were living the good life, enjoying their flat and each other’s company, buying the fanciest foods and wine, cuddling well into the night like drunk, rich socialites. But soon enough they had to pay rent again. They talked about the idea of getting jobs to cover it for all of five minutes before Louis mentioned a trust fund kid in his Advanced Concepts of Movement class who’d been trying to ask him out.

It was difficult for Louis to pretend to be interested, and Harry hated snaking the money out of this poor kid’s account, but their rent was covered for the next few months, and all it took was a couple weeks of simple work.

After that, it got easy.

➴➴➴

Harry’s staked out in a coffee shop two buildings down from where Louis’ having dinner with Greg James. He has a half-finished coffee resting next to his laptop, which is showing video being recorded through the camera on the edge of Louis’ glasses, and the piece in his ear is transmitting from the microphone on the lapel of Louis’ suit jacket. Harry has tabs open on Greg’s social media accounts and his one interview from the English Bar, and he’s doing his best to guide the conversation to places that he can control Louis’ responses and keep Greg on the hook.

“I’m sorry,” Louis interrupts halfway through Greg’s work story. Harry wasn’t paying much attention, figuring as long as it’s work, it’s safe. It’s when things start to tangent off in other directions that Harry’s on standby for. “What is it you do again? You’re a lawyer, right?”

Greg smiles, and the camera angles down to where Greg’s hand is reaching down to grip Louis’. “Much more than a lawyer, love. I have my own firm.”

“Right, right. You’re the big man on campus, then?” Louis looks back up and Harry can just imagine the smirk on his face based on the tone in his voice.

“Absolutely. I call the shots.”

Louis laughs, a fake, airy thing. “I like that in a man.”

Greg smirks, an air of smugness around him, and Harry rolls his eyes. He knows exactly what Greg’s thinking, that Louis’ some twink for keeps, primed and primped to warm his bed and do as he says. And sure, Louis may act that way when he’s with these men, but he’s only there to steal their fortune. They can think he’s a toy all they want, but Harry knows he won’t be there for long.

That’s the only thing keeping him in the game - the knowledge that Louis won’t go and run away with these filthy rich men.

“And what is it that you do?” Greg asks, pulling Harry’s attention back to the screen, and having him switch to the English Bar interview, looking for a hint of anything to make Louis more interesting in Greg’s eyes. “Other than walk around parties waiting to get drinks spilled on you.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Louis insists, a giggle tumbling out. “You can’t act like I’m the odd one when you all but threw your Gin and Dubonnet for a chance to speak to me.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! Someone ran into me, it was a mere accident.”

Harry continues skimming the article, but the first few questions are primarily regarding his law practice so he has to delve further, which is hard to do with Louis’ teasing voice in his ear directed towards someone other than him.

“Or so you say. I didn’t see anyone but you in that hallway.”

“There was a man - ”

“Greg.” Louis cuts him off, voice soft and convincing. “You were only person I could see in that hallway.”

The camera falls a bit to show Louis’ thumb rubbing Greg’s palm and Harry clenches his fist. He continues reading to distract himself and discovers Greg does a lot of charity work at the LGBT switchboard, prefers older music, and cites Echo Tree as his favorite piece of literature.

“So what _is_ it that you do?”

“Tell him you write,” Harry prompts, loudly enough that Louis can hear him in his earpiece, but not too loud to attract the attention of coffee patrons.

Louis clears his throat, and the camera shifts to the left, showing that Louis’ not looking directly at Greg. “I went to uni for drama, but wasn’t cut out for it, so now I just write a bit. Wouldn’t call myself a writer, exactly, but maybe one day.”

“Don’t be modest, love,” Greg says, and the camera focuses in on him. “I’m sure you’re better than you’re aware of.”

“I’ve never written anything of note, honest.” Harry has to hold in a laugh at Louis’ answer because he really isn’t lying with this one.

“Then why do you do it?”

Louis laughs, but Harry knows it’s a placeholder for an answer that he’s asking Harry to provide him with. “You’re a fan of books.”

“It’s just something I started one day,” Louis doesn’t even hesitate to begin. “There’ve been a lot of stories that have changed my life, and I want to be like them.”

“Who’s your favorite author?” Greg asks. “Who inspires you most?”

“What’s with the twenty questions, love?”

Harry does a quick search of Echo Tree to pull up the authors name and recites “Henry Dumas” to Louis.

“I guess I just want to know what makes you tick,” Greg shrugs. It has Harry’s nose crunching in.

“It’s Henry Dumas,” he insists, wanting to move past this flirting limbo their trapped in.

Louis hums sweetly and the camera floats a bit higher, tilting to the side. He’s playing coy. “If I had to choose, I think I’d say the biggest influence I’ve had in writing is Henry Dumas.” Greg visibly reacts, and Louis laughs. “Have you heard of him?”

“I have, yeah,” Greg says, grabbing his drink, downing the rest of it in one shit.” _Echo Tree_ is my favorite collection of work.”

“I guess we have more in common than I first thought.”

“I guess we do.” Greg tilts his glass forward and Louis taps his against it. Watching Greg's eyes shine, Harry can only assume that Louis’ have gone soft.

He always was a great actor.

The night goes on, Harry keeping a close eye on the competition and making sure that Louis doesn’t say anything that could jeopardize their chance to gain access to Greg’s accounts. It's mostly small talk, meaningless topics that Louis can handle himself, but occasionally Harry has to pop in and direct things to go in a certain direction.   

Eventually, as they've finished their meals and the conversation has dwindled down to just flirty whispers, Greg lifts Louis’ hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “What do you say we get out of here?”

Harry has to fight against groaning into the microphone. “Say no.” It's far too soon for Louis to be in Greg's flat. If he goes now, he'll only see Louis as a one night stand, which means they'd _have_ to take the money tonight. But in doing that, they're making themselves obvious, not acting in the subtle way that they need to.

“I’m not so sure - ”

“We could pop open some red,” Greg cuts Louis off, a grin dancing on his face as a far away glazes in his eyes. “Sit on the roof, maybe, and listen to an old record.”

Harry wants to laugh, but holds it in. Louis hates old music. The last time Harry brought out his record machine, Louis disappeared into their neighbor's flat for a solid day.

Instead of outright laughing at Greg's offer, Harry clears his throat and says, “If you go now, it’ll be too suspicious when the money goes missing.”

The camera subtly tilts a few times, Louis nodding minutely in agreement. “You’ll have to do better than that to get me alone,” he teases his date. “I’m not an easy date, Greg James.”

Greg chuckles and says something in return, but Harry misses it. His attention is too busy narrowing in on a familiar face in the background. An old friend of Harry's sister, someone Louis almost found himself falling in love with, someone Harry held such distaste for he drained half of the man's bank account, nearly costing Louis his life. If it wasn't for their secure backup plan they've spent years perfecting, Harry's certain Louis would be six feet under right now.  

“Don’t give yourself away,” Harry warns, “but hot friend Luke at 1 o'clock.”

Louis’ head discreetly slides to the left, and Harry can hear his partner's quiet breath intake.

“Y-you know,” Louis says, voice far thicker than it was before. “I think that sounds lovely. What do say we get out of here?”

Greg smirks and waves his hand in the air for the bill. There's a cockiness about him that Harry can feel even a few blocks over. He absolutely hates the man.

As soon as the bill is paid, Greg's hand is at Louis’ lower back, guiding them to the entrance. Louis takes care to hide his face the entire time, not wanting one past lover to ruin the streak of perfect heists they've gone through with.

Soon enough, they're outside and Greg parts with a kiss to Louis’ temple as he approaches the valet. Harry immediately falls into action. “Get out of there, Lou,” he urges

“What?” The camera turns away from Greg so quickly that the picture on Harry's laptop blues and freezes before glitching back to normal. “I just told him I’d go home with him.”

“You can’t. Not yet.”

“I have to.”

“No you don’t!”

Louis’ voice breaks as he says, “He’ll think I'm a tease,” sounding like the idea of it actually hurts.

“You don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect you, Lou.”

He huffs in response, and Harry can tell that he's agitated. “We’re literally robbing him, Harry. He can disrespect me all he wants.”

“Louis, I’m telling you not to go home with him,” Harry bites, not leaving any room for an argument. He knows it'll lead to a fight, but getting Louis out of there safely is his first priority. “Tell him you have work in the morning or some shite, but get out of there. We can’t risk going too far too soon.”

“ _Fine_.”

The words stop there, silence growing between them as they wait for Greg to return from the valet booth. It's a few minutes before he actually does, hands empty but an excited skip in his step.

His hands are in his pocket and he's leaning forward on the balls of his feet. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd accuse Greg of being modest and almost charming, but he knows men like this, and he knows there's nothing there but greed.

Hell, he's quite a rich man himself, and he _knows_ he's greedy. Only, it's not for money.

“They’re pulling the car around now,” Greg says, watching Louis fondly. His smiles slips slightly and he asks, “Are you cold?”

“I’m alright.”

“You sure?” He doesn't seem convinced by Louis’ nod. “Something seems wrong.”

Louis sighs, preparing what Harry's sure will be a believable yet completely bullshit excuse. “I just - I have a meeting tomorrow morning and I should probably head home.”

Any semblance of excitement or anticipation on Greg's face is wiped away. Harry can't find it in himself to feel guilty. “Oh - ”

“I feel really terrible about it, but…”

Greg waves off any excuse Louis would have come up with. “No, it’s alright, love. I understand. I just hope it’s nothing I’ve done.”

“Of course not,” Louis insist, walking forward. The camera drops to show him gently taking Greg's hands in his much smaller ones, thumbs rubbing circles around his knuckles. “I want to see you again soon, hopefully, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, absolutely.” Harry can feel himself getting more and more upset looking at his computer screen. There's a softness in every step Greg takes, something careful and kind - an act, he's sure. Harry just doesn't want him sucking Louis into his life the way other past targets have. “For tonight, though, would you let me drive you home?”

Harry scoffs outwardly and a couple sitting near him turn at the noise. He winces, apologizes, and goes back to watching, excited to see how Louis declines. They never give away their location, and Greg's a fool for thinking he'd be special in any way shape or form.

He isn't the richest, or most attractive, or even _tallest_ man they've stolen from. Greg is just another target and in a week, he won't even be a blip on their radar.

“I’m alright to walk,” Louis insists. “Might get a tea on the way.”

“Walk?” Greg's face contorts into something of horrified astonishment, a clear sign that he's never been anywhere close to the poverty line in his wealthy, privileged life.

“I’m just a few blocks over.” The camera blurs slightly. Harry assumes Louis tilted his head in the direction of the coffee shop in which he's currently hiding in. “Not far at all.  My room has a great view of Hyde Park, even.”

Harry smirks at the lie.

“Yeah?”

“It does.” It doesn't. “Maybe I’ll even let you see it sometime soon.” He won't.

A charming grin takes over Greg’s face, and then he's leaning in to kiss Louis. Harry slams the computer screen down and rips his headphones out. He can't stand to watch or listen. The meaningless flirting is too much for him on a good day, watching something _actually_ happen is a goddamn nightmare.

A few moments later, after Harry's been sitting alone with no contact to his partner or the target, Louis storms into the coffee shop. “You always do that, Haz,” he yells, small fists clenched at his side, chest heaving visibly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Harry glances at the other people in the coffee shop. Nobody's outwardly reacting, but he can see the way their ears perk up. “It would’ve been suspicious.”

“We didn’t have to do anything tonight,” Louis bites back. “Maybe I just wanted to sleep with him, you ever think of that?”

Harry did think of that, actually, and it makes him ache. “Isn’t it too soon - ”

“Too soon for what?” There's a condescending bite to his tone, and his face is twisted in a way that makes Harry want to disappear completely. “Consensual sex between two adults? I don’t think that has a timeframe, _mate_.”

“I - ”

Louis scoffs, cutting off the incomplete thought Harry was trying to form. “I’m going home,” he says, eyes slitted, burning a hole everywhere they look at Harry. “I’ll see you tomorrow - don’t bother talking to me until then.”

Louis storms out and Harry’s left to pack up his tech. The patrons of the coffee shop have moved past subtly glancing and are now glaring at him. He walks home, upset that he's made his best friend and partner upset, but an even larger part of him is ecstatic that Louis didn't sleep with Greg. He hasn't yet, and hopefully Harry can stop it in the future as well.

Sure they're doing something illegal - robbing men of part of their wealth for their own selfish gain. They're constantly at risk of being caught and locked away, and it's an issue. But Louis sleeping with these rich men?

That’s a much bigger problem.

➴➴➴

It _shouldn’t_ be a problem, but it is. If only because Harry’s in love with Louis, has been since the very moment he laid eyes on the older boy.

… if that wasn't obvious already.

➴➴➴

The next morning, Harry finds himself in the kitchen, dirty dishes piling high as he cooks up a full English. There's nothing that'll express his regret to Louis than brekky, hot and awaiting his presence.

Harry isn't sorry about what happened, doesn't regret that Louis and Greg didn't sleep together, but he does want to apologize for the way everything happened, for the fact that Louis stormed away, upset and frustrated.

Just as Harry's finishing up the bacon, Louis comes trotting into the room, eyes puffy, hair sleep rumbled, and positively drowning in Harry's lavender sweater. He sleeps in it when he's mad at Harry, but Harry doesn’t find it much of a punishment at all.

“Morning, Haz,” Louis croaks, rubbing at his eyes and taking a seat at the counter.

“Morning.”

Just as Harry's preparing his apology speech, gathering his confidence and taking in a breath, Louis speaks up. “I just, I wanted to apologize for last night. I may have possibly overreacted a bit.”

“Yeah?” Harry isn't sure what else to say, not when his apology was hijacked so humbly with ease.

“You were just doing your part,” Louis explains, his eyes narrowing in on the granite countertop. “Falling into bed too soon would’ve made the break up suspicious, and… just, you were right.” He takes a deep breath and raises his head, looking Harry in the eye. “Forgive me?”

Harry doesn't hesitate. “Obviously.”

He’s incredibly stupid for Louis - there's nothing the other man could do to keep Harry from loving him with his entire heart. Even if Harry was a target, he'd give Louis every penny he had.

There's a reason Louis’ the one to sleep with these men. He's alluring and magnanimous, and there's no way anybody stands a chance against his soft smiles and big blue eyes.

“Greg actually messaged me last night,” Louis informs him, taking Harry out of the sepia-tinted day dream he was having. “ _And_ he messaged again this morning wishing me luck at my ‘meeting.’ And then a few minutes ago he even called me. Said he couldn’t get me out of his head. You were right about not going home with him, and I should’ve trusted you.”

Harry nods and bites his tongue against any harsh words he might be tempted to say. He doesn’t want to say much at all - doesn’t want to show his hurt.

“So what should we do next?” Louis asks. “What’s our next point of attack?”

“Let him take you out again, I think,” Harry suggests. His eyes float away from Louis and he works on building a plate of food. Louis’ lucky enough to operate on the same wavelength in all aspects of his life, but Harrys a fool in love. If they're talking about work, he can’t be himself - he can't have fun. It's not in his skillset. “To a movie or dinner again. Just don’t seem too eager to have access to his home. He’s looking for something long term, and if you act like you are too, he’ll be more interested in getting you home.”

“And if he invites me over afterwards?”

Harry holds his frown back and robotically advises Louis to “Be hesitant, but let him talk you into it.”

“You’re so good at this, Haz,” Louis sighs, smiling widely as Harry places a plate in front of him. “What would I do without you?”

He doesn't know that Harry's thinking the same thing about Louis.

➴➴➴

It takes two more dates before Greg finally asks Louis back to his place. At first, Louis was doubtful it would happen at all, but Harry assured him it was just Greg being cautious. After the last time he asked, with Louis shutting him down completely, he probably needed to get some confidence back.

And that ended up being the case. Greg explained his hesitancy after they shared ice cream together in Hyde Park at sundown, and tentatively invited Louis back home with him for a nightcap - something Louis accepted with shy eyes and modest grin, doing an excellent job at pretending to need persuading.

At first, Harry was upset and angry that things were happening so fast and that the two would be intimate before he could even try and convince Louis otherwise.  But while Louis falling into bed with their target was something inevitable, at least if it was happening now they could sooner wash their hands of Greg and be LouisandHarry again.

For now, Harry's stuck listening to the man he's in love with making out with their target. He wishes for nothing more than to be able to stop and never have to hear the wet, exaggerated sounds through his headset again. Only, he has to stay tuned so he knows when Louis’ inserted the chip into Greg's laptop so he can begin to vacuum the funds from his account.

When they'd only just begun to steal from Louis’ boyfriends back in uni, they went the simple, slow, and highly traceable route. They used credit card numbers to send money into their personal accounts as if making a simple purchase. It worked when they were kids and Louis could spend more time gathering blackmail on their targets, preemptively withdrawing the cash as “hush money.”

Or so they'd explain if ever caught.

Now, as adults dealing with much more dangerous people and even wealthier socialites, they have to be more cautious, more subtle, and a hell of a lot smarter with their transactions.

Harry developed a program about two years into their partnership that could successfully hack into their target's laptop and gain access to every program - password protected or not.

In no time at all, it seems, Harry can get into their target's bank account and transfer money to their offshore account, all while holding onto the information so they can also donate half of it to a charity that won't raise suspicion - all before Louis has even left their flat.

Another benefit of the program is that the access it grants them is perfect for snooping out blackmail in the _very_ unlikely situation they they're caught.

It's their back up plan. One they've never had to use.

Just as Harry's ready to take his headphones out and call the night a bust, the noises stop and Louis’ voice is saying, “Can you excuse me for just one moment?”

Harry pulls up the video screen, feeling safe to view the situation at hand now that he'll be able to see more than Greg's too-large nose and too-thin lips.

Greg nods, gesturing behind Louis, and then the camera is moving and Louis’ leaving the room.

It doesn't take long for him to find his way into an office of some sort, approach the desk, and insert the computer chip into the laptop. His hand isn't even off the USB before Harry's loading up his program and working to gather information.

When Louis reenters the bedroom - after stopping in the bathroom to make his stepping out more believable - Harry's sent a modest hundred grand to their offshore account, and another to what he calls “limbo” awaiting to go to a charity that he and Louis will agree on at a later date.

Before the kissing can commence again, Harry's removing his headset, closing his laptop, and leaving the room. Louis has an emergency button that he can press if something goes haywire. It gives Harry the comfort of not having to watch Louis fuck someone while also knowing that he's not in any harm. It, by far, is the best piece of equipment they own if only so Harry can go next door and bug their neighbor as opposed to pining after his best friend and partner.

Harry shuts their door behind him only to immediately open Niall's door, walking in and heading towards the couch.

Niall, sitting at his dining room table, sorting through a stack of papers, watches everything happen. “Walk right in, why don’t you,” he bites, eyes slitted as Harry doesn't even hesitate in hs steps. “Who needs a doorbell?”

“It’s not like you were doing anything,” Harry comments.

“I could’ve been.”

“You weren’t.”

Harry throws himself face down on Niall’s sofa in lieu of a response and Niall groans, standing up from the table. “Oh don’t do that.” Harry pushes his head in the crack of the sofa and Niall laughs. It feels a bit like he’s taunting Harry’s misfortune. “Harry, seriously,” he urges, moving Harry's thin legs over so he can sit on the cushion. “What’s wrong?”

Harry mumbles into the cushioning, but he knows Niall can't understand his muffled whines, so he pulls his head back and repeats, “Louis’ out with a target.”

“Oh, Louis’ on a date with someone?” Niall asks, voice rising at the end signifying that he knows he misinterpreted the words, but doesn't want to acknowledge what was really said. “I’m sorry.”

Niall's hand is gently placed at his back, resting there without movement, but it grounds him nonetheless. “They’re sleeping together.”

“You don’t know that - ”

“I saw,” Harry insists.

Niall is silent, his hand pressing a bit harder at Harry's tailbone. It's a moment before he says in a hushed tone, “I think it’s time we have a talk about boundaries.”

“I closed the laptop once they got to the bedroom,” he defends himself. “I only needed to listen up until the money - ”

“Yeah, up until you knew Louis was safe with his date,” Niall interrupts, again refusing to correctly hear Harry's words.

Harry laughs again. “One of these days, you’re going to have to acknowledge what we do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

➴➴➴

Harry and Louis met Niall the very day they moved into their secluded living complex. On the 18th floor of a 20 story building, they were looking for a flat that wouldn't allow them to be found easily if things ever went south.

They'd just finished bring in their belongings and were ready to begin making their place a home when Niall knocked on their door and invited himself inside. He didn't leave until well past midnight, Harry and Louis not getting a say in the matter at all.

One moment they were partners in crime with nobody but each other, and the next they had a smart arse Irish friend invading their space to watch golf on their television and cuddle through any hard times.  

It's been six years and Harry couldn't imagine not having Niall across the hall, always ready for a drink and a hug.

The only downside is that Niall's by far one of the smartest men they know. He owns his own PR firm, representing athletes, musicians, and just about any other celebrity you could think of. He started the firm himself, grew it into the multimillion dollar company it is today, and _still_ handles all the company's financial and legal issues.

It wouldn't be a problem for the two of them, but on top of being business savvy, he's also incredibly perceptive, meaning it only took him about 3 weeks to discover the criminal activity going on in the flat across from his. It's been years since then, though, and Niall still hasn't said a word to anyone. Other than the very first time he brought up his observation, he refuses to acknowledge that he knows. It's his own way of having plausible deniability, but at this point he's in too deep.

Hell, Niall's even landed them some targets in the past, and he's fixed a bug or two in Harry's program.

Pretending not to be aware of what goes on is a point they've long since passed.

➴➴➴

The next day finds Harry and Louis eating chinese takeaway in the living room, picking out which charities to donate to. Harry’s sitting cross legged on the floor, only giving the laptop in front of him half glances as he shovels his food into his mouth. Louis’ behind the couch, pacing back and forth as he gives most of his attention to his phone while holding his takeaway container in his freehand, most of it going uneaten. All in all, there isn’t much focusing going on. They’ve got one-hundred thousand pounds sitting, ready to send off to wherever they so choose.

If only they could agree on one.

“What about Pride of Britain?” Harry tries through his mouthful of fried rice.

“We just did that, didn’t we?” Louis pauses his pacing to lean against the back of the couch. Harry tilts his head back to look up. “Shouldn’t we give someone else attention?”

“Believe in Magic?”

Upside-down Louis shakes his head, lips pursed. “I donate to them a lot, and I don’t want it to be traced back to me if Greg calls it in.”

Harry looks back at his food with a frown. They have this rhythm, this pattern of robbing from men, stealing their money, and donating to charity. It’s classic, effortless nearly, and it’s proven to work. Their record is perfect, and it’s fantastic, but Harry wonders if maybe they’re too reliant on the system.

If they’re too obvious.

He looks back up at Louis only to see he’s occupied with his phone again. It doesn’t stop him from asking, “Do you ever worry they’re going to catch on to what you’re doing?”

“What _we’re_ doing,” Louis corrects. There’s a scowl on his face and Harry bites his lip at the bite to it.  

“Do you ever worry - ”

“No,” he cuts Harry off. “We donate more to charity than we send to the offshore, and what kind of asshole is going to report his money was donated to a charity in need?”

“What if they know it’s you?” Harry wonders.

He knows he’s being irritating, suddenly bringing up these questions out of the blue. It’s just that he worries. One day they won’t be able to do this as easily. One day they’re going to get caught. It’s all a disaster waiting to happen, and Harry’s beginning to think it may not be worth it.

“We have a failsafe, Harry,” Louis sighs. The sharpness is gone from his tone, and now he just sounds bored with the conversation. “Besides, the moment the money disappears, I’m sitting on their dick. I have an alibi.”

Although Louis most likely thinks that to be funny, it hits too hard. Harry smiles flatly and goes back to his computer screen to keep his sour mood from showing. It feels like Louis says these things to purposefully hurt him. Harry knows he never would but sometimes… sometimes it burns.

“Look, let’s just send it to the LGBT Switchboard,” Louis offers suddenly. He walks around the couch and places his half eaten food on the table, falling down on a cushion. “He does work there, so it’s not very suspicious.” He reaches for his shoes under the table, and starts sliding them on.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Louis grabs a small bite from his food and then he’s standing up, pocketting his phone. “Greg wants to meet for dinner.”

At the mention of Greg, Harry has to shake his head a bit. He wasn’t expecting to hear their target’s name in the present tense ever again. “I thought… aren’t we done with him?”

Louis shrugs. “We will be,” he says. “I didn’t want to end it randomly.”

“Are you ending it tonight?”

“It’s too soon, I think.” He’s already heading towards the door, the words coming out carelessly as though he’s only focused on leaving and meeting up with his precious _Greg_. “Give me a few days. I’ll make it amicable so he doesn’t, you know, suspect I just stole a small fortune from him. I’ll be back tonight, though.” The door shuts behind Louis, but it opens just as quickly. “Don’t eat my food!” And then Louis’ gone.

As Harry’s left alone in their shared flat, both orders of dinner sitting in front of him, he feels left behind, as though he isn’t Louis’ best mate anymore. It’s like he’s just the tech behind the money, a hopeless fool, yearning after the man every socialite in London wants.

He just wants to not hurt anymore.

➴➴➴

A lot of Harry's life is waiting for Louis to return from his “dates.” He cant wander too far from home in case Louis is in trouble or something else goes wrong in the mission.

So when things get boring (or more likely - when Harry gets sick of watching Louis with other men), Harry likes the safety net that is Niall's flat. He finds himself there more often than not when Louis’ dates are stagnant.

Usually, he just watches television or raids the kitchen as Niall does work at his table, but on occasion, Niall will join him on the sofa and watch movies or play video games. And that's exactly what they're doing when the door clicks and Louis walks in, shouting, “Hey!”

Neither of the men turn away from their game, but Harry’s quiet reply of “Hey…” is trampled by Niall's shout.

“Hello!”

“You weren’t at home,” Louis comments, his voice drifting closer as he approaches the living room.

“No, I was here.”

“You were supposed to be waiting for me.” The cushion beside Harry dips with Louis’ weight, but he still doesn't turn. He's about to beat Niall, and doesn't want any distractions. “Were you even listening in on the date?”

Harry rolls his eyes, not even caring if Louis sees at this point. “I was until Greg started whispering in your ear.”

“The club was loud.”

He doesn't even have to see Louis’ face to know there's a pout planted on it. “He was talking about fucking you. I didn’t want to listen in.”

The conversation fades out, allowing Harry to focus on his task at hand. He can still feel Louis’ weight at his side, but he's stiff, not as relaxed and playful as usual.

Finally, as the game’s starting to wind down, Louis takes a breath in and asks, “Does that mean you weren’t scouting for people?”

“There wasn’t anyone worth pursuing,” Harry says.

“It was an industry event,” Louis fights. On the television, the game is over and Harry's lost. “Every person in there has a net worth big enough to be a target.”

Suddenly Niall yawns, louder than any conversation has ever been in his flat, “Wow, I’m so tired. I just blanked out for a minute there - ” He turns towards where Louis and Harry are sitting and feigns surprise. “ _Louis_! I forgot you were here. Harry, why don’t you take him back to your flat. That seems to be a good place to talk about, well, whatever you were talking about. I wouldn’t know.”

Harry is instantly amused. Niall is by far the worst actor Harry's had the misfortune to know.  He stands up anyway, stretching. Beside him, Louis does the same. “We ended it - ”

“Hey!” Niall's indignant shout cuts Louis off. He starts shooing them towards the door. “I said go back to your own flat!”

Louis rolls his eyes but leads the way through Niall's living room, past the entry way, and out the door, Harry following as he tries not to laugh at their ridiculous neighbor.

It's not until their back at their own flat that Louis turns to Harry and repeats, “We ended it.”

➴➴➴

The timeframe in which Harry and Louis aren't going after any targets is by far the best in Harry's eyes. It's always nice to have something of value to do with his days, but constantly having to see the man he loves flirt and fuck other men isn't exactly something he enjoys.

Louis gets a thrill out of it. He's confessed to Harry in the past that there's something dangerous and dirty about it that has him addicted. The way he has wealthy, powerful men wrapped around his finger, and all it takes to take everything out from under them is Louis on their knees. Harry understands it, he gets where the adrenaline kick can come from, but it's far different for him. He doesn't crave the danger, doesn't ever enjoy seeing the love of his life acting so illicitly in the personal homes of such influential people.

That's why every day that they don't have a target to go after, Harry wakes up refreshed and ready to do absolutely anything so long as it means having Louis safe by his side.

And Louis without a target is more fun, more relaxed, more of who Harry fell in love with. They fall into each other during their breaks and are allowed to be themselves. And Harry knows why he loves Louis everytime they make cookies and get flour everywhere, or when they settle in to watch a movie and Louis spoils it, or when they’re cuddling and Louis’ cold toes hit his bare calf.

It's easy and it's wonderful, and Harry would give anything for it to be like that forever.

➴➴➴

Usually, the break between targets lasts Harry a good month or two, a solid holiday from criminal activity and heartbreaking hi jinks, but after Greg, Louis surprises Harry and immediately wants to jump back on the horse again. Only two weeks after Greg and Louis end their “relationship,” Louis wanders into the living room, his laptop cradled on his shoulder.

“I found the next target.”

Niall, from his seat on the floor in front of where Harry's lounging on the couch, springs up in the air. “If you want to finish the episode and then text me what happens, that’s alright by me,” he says, heading towards the door before anyone can even so much as say goodbye. “And that… That’s about it. I have to go now. No reason. Goodbye.”

He walks out the door and Louis immediately starts laughing. “If he ever gets taken in for questioning, we’re fucked.” Harry grins and sits up. “Anyway I found our next target.”

Not having let the words sink in the first time Louis said them, Harry's heart immediately sinks. “So soon?”

“Soon?” The laugh that follows is one of shock. “It’s been two weeks.”

“If we keep going at this rate, we’ll - ”

“We’ll what?” The amusement from earlier has drained from Louis’ face, and now he's back to the argumentative, thrill-seeking fool that Harry hates having to work with. “Help a bunch of charities? Have money saved up in our offshore? What are you getting at?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.” Harry knows he doesn't stand a chance against Louis when he gets like this. He figures if they dive right in, everything will be fine in a week’s time, and they go back to being best friends as opposed to business partners. “What’s his name?”

Louis smiles flatly. “Liam Payne. He’s only twenty-five, but he’s just been appointed Global Head of Syco Entertainment.”

“When you say _just_ appointed - ”

“It happened this morning.” Louis places the laptop on the coffee table and Harry sees an article from the Sun, the headline reading " **Syco’s New Look, and The Payne-ful Transition.** ” Immediately, Harry’s worried.

“He’s so new to the industry, Louis. He probably doesn’t even have a penny to his name yet.”

“He does; I checked!” Louis’ smug grin graces his face as he clicks to a new tab - Payne’s twitter. “He was a trust fund kid and has been in high management positions in Manchester. He’s had money since before he could spend it. Best of all, he won’t be suspecting anyone, not when he’s so fresh to the scene.”

Harry considers what Louis’ said as he reads the naive and (worryingly) misspelled tweets on Payne’s social media. “I’m just worried it’s too soon.”

“Well there’s a party being thrown for him on Saturday, so it’s now or never. Can you get us on that guest list?”

“I can, yeah, but - ”

“Perfect,” Louis grins, picking up his computer and turning it to face him. “Let’s do it then.” He walks into the kitchen then, reading his laptop as he goes, and Harry sinks into the couch and burrows into his blanket.

They really don't handle missions the same way.

➴➴➴

Harry watches on, drink in hand, as Louis tries to find time with Payne at the party, but people keep coming over to congratulate him. It happens time and time again, just when he manages to squeeze himself in next to their target, another big wig hotshot with desperation dripping through their veins steals any attention way.

“I can’t find my way over,” Louis mutters into his mic, voice just loud enough to be heard over the pounding music.

The next time Louis finds his way next to their target, Harry abandons his stool and comes over.  He manages to blocks a young blonde girl from going to Payne by snagging his ring in her shawl. As she moves to step towards the target, Harry loudly gasps. “I am so sorry,” he apologizes as the girl giggles, using nimble fingers to try and untangle to jewelry from her fabric.

“It’s alright,” she waves him off, grinning kindly. “No harm done.”

When they finally manage to sort it out, the girl’s shawl is fine, and Louis is up against Payne. Harry moves to stand at the other end of the bar to watch, not ready to see Louis trap another man in his web.

Which is fine, considering it doesn't appear to be working anyway.

Payne keeps a safe distance between himself and every other person in his vicinity. Everytime Louis puts his hand on his arm, their target lets it stay but doesn’t advance. At one point, Louis makes a joke that Payne must find hilarious as he smiles a huge, puppy dog grin and hands his phone to Louis.

Harry’s perplexed.

At the end of the night, as the party begins to die down, Harry finally manages to steal Louis away from _Liam,_ as Louis’ taken to calling him, and confront him with his worries. “I’m certain he wasn’t into you, Lou. I think he just wants to be friends.”

“He does,” Louis confirms, further bemusing Harry. “But I think this will be an easier angle to work.”

On one hand, Harry doesn't like the sudden change of events. They'll have to work a new game plan around this, completely remolding the way they operate. It's dangerous and unpracticed, and things could go horribly wrong.

On the other hand, Louis wont be sleeping with their target, and Harry thinks that's just about the best news in the world.

➴➴➴

Even though Louis’ eyesight is absolute shit on a good day, he refuses to wear his glasses unless it's for a mission - for his own protection. He claims it “makes me look like a tit, Haz” and though Harry's inclined to disagree, he doesn't say anything.

Truth is, Louis looks _devastating_ in his glasses, and it makes Harry weak in the knees just to see them sitting on the counter.

Which is exactly what he walks in on the morning of Louis’ “bro-date” with Liam. Louis’ glasses are sitting open on the kitchen table, mocking him, as Louis has the camera that's usually attached to them plugged into the laptop.

Harry walks silently behind Louis’ chair and watches as the program updates. As soon as it's finished, Louis unplugs it and hands the camera to Harry.

As Harry's attaching the camera back to the glasses, weaving the ear piece through the frames, Niall walks into the flat, giving a low whistle when he makes his way over to them. “Fancy glasses, Lou. How come I never see you wear them?”

“They’re only for special occasions,” Louis comments. “I’m meeting someone at the pub.”

“Can I come?”

Harry looks up at that, eyes narrowing as he peers over Louis’ fluffy hair. “It’s a target, Niall.”

“That’s a weird thing to call a friend, mate, but who am I to judge?” He shrugs, and Harry has to thin his lips to keep from laughing. He's truly a horrid actor. “Can I come?”

“I say you let him,” Harry says, going back to getting the camera sorted properly on the glasses “Liam said he was looking for friends, remember?”

“I mean - ”

“I promise I’ll be on my my best behavior,” Niall begs, ducking down so he’s shorter than Louis and can look in his eyes. “I’ll even call him a target!”

“Do _not_ \- ”

“He’s just kidding Louis,” Harry laughs. “You know he wouldn’t.”

It takes a few seconds of Niall batting his eyelashes before Louis gives in, a sigh racking his entire upper body. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

Niall nods along like a good friend. He's been around long enough to know that there's no arguing with Louis, that there's not going to be a time in which Louis is wrong

➴➴➴

It turns out that Louis was wrong.

Niall doesn’t end up paying because Liam hands his card off to Louis as soon as they see each other - the very moment Louis approaches him in the bar. Harry's mouth is hanging wide open at such a blatant show of trust that he nearly misses Liam’s explanation of, “I can’t be trusted when I’ve had too much in me, so you can hold onto that and buy as much as you want. It’s on me tonight.”

Harry can't see Louis’ face, but he knows the same dumbfounded look that he's sprouting must be on Louis’ face as well. Working with wealthy men, making it their mission to gain access to their personal space, to their _money_ , a moment like this is an absolute fantasy. Never, not once in the nine years they've been doing this, have they gotten access to money from the target themselves. The rich are greedy, materialistic, and untrusting. This moment, this scene playing out in front of Harry's eyes is something he's never dared to dream of.

But there it is.  

Niall must see the shock written across Louis’ face, so he takes the lead and grips Liam by the shoulders. “Mate, you just may be my new favorite person. Let’s get you hammered.”

Niall drags Liam to the bar and Louis trails behind, keeping his eyes firmly on the plastic card in his hand. Harry takes the hint and begins typing in the information

When they get to the front of the bar, Niall chatting Liam’s ear off like a good sidekick - as though he was an expert in the game, Louis turns away from the duo and asks, “Do you have it?”

Using the card number, Harry traces the account. He inputs the information to his program, and faster than they've ever been able to before, there's money in their offshore, as well as some in limbo awaiting a charity.

“Done.”

There's a brief laugh from Louis’ end, and then he's sliding the card into his pocket and joining Niall and Liam. Harry watches for a moment before closing the computer and taking out the earpiece, deciding to let Louis have his night out with friends. It's not often he's allowed a carefree night, so Harry thinks he's earned it.

In the meantime, Harry heads to the living room for some alone time himself. He wants to enjoy what’s essentially a night off, left alone from the plaguing concerns that Louis’ sleeping with strange men just because they're wealthy.

He manages to doze off, something he doesn't often do, not when he needs to be alert and prepared to leave at a moments notice in case of an emergency with Louis. It's a few hours later that he's awoken by the sound of the front door slamming, Louis’ voice carrying into the room. “I’m back!”

Harry sits up, allowing himself the room to stretch as Louis comes into the living room alone. “Where’s Niall?”

“He’s letting Liam crash on his couch.” Louis tilts his head towards the door and takes a seat on the end cushion of the sofa Harry's been napping on. “I think they got along well.”

“That’s good. I don’t think he’ll be too suspicious if you both get along with him well.”

“I don’t think he’ll be suspicious at all,” Louis laughs. There's a looseness about him that Harry thinks can be put down to his state of inebriation. “He seems like the type of guy that doesn’t check his bank account often. Or remember what he spends money on, really.”

Harry grins at Louis. “He was the perfect victim.”

“Genuinely!” Louis’ still laughing, body leaning back against the sofa. “I wouldn’t mind having more like him every once in awhile. Just because it was so fast, you know?”

“Yeah…” Harry wouldn’t mind having more of Liam, just so Louis didn’t have to sleep with them.

But he’s not going to say that.

➴➴➴

Time passes and they have their highs and lows. Louis sees Liam every so often, and Harry pines as he usually does, but still enjoys the time they spend together without a target.

Only Louis doesn’t sit still for long this time around.

It’s only a week when Louis barges into the house after another night of hanging out with Liam. He yells “Ben Winston” and Niall, not saying a word or even wearing his shoes, walks right out of the flat. Louis spares an odd glance at him before looking back at Harry and repeating, “Ben Winston.”

Harry doesn't even have to ask to know that Louis’ ready to move on. But he feigns naivety and asks anyway. “What about him?”

“He’s our next target.”

“Already?”

Louis narrows his eyes, offence written across his face. “What do you mean already? I haven’t had anyone since Greg.”

Harry grits his teeth against yelling. It seems like their breaks, their vacations, are few and far between, but Louis refuses to acknowledge it. “ _Liam_?”

“That doesn’t count,” Louis waves him off. “We didn’t sleep together.” Harry flattens his lips, not wanting to say anything and show how he’s really feelings so he nods and faces his computer again. “Don’t you want to know how I found him?” Louis pushes, not reading the tone. “I'm clever, truly.”

“Sure.”

“Well don’t sound so excited…” Harry keeps his mouth closed and his eyes forward. Still, Louis continues. “I complained to Liam that I was feeling lonely, and didn’t like being single - casually, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry's comment was mostly to himself, a sarcastic acknowledgment of the conversation, but Louis grins as though Harry's actively inputting his thought in a sincere manner.

He isn't.

“And he told me about his friend, Ben, from Manchester who’s visiting over the weekend, and wants someone to show him around a bit.”

“How do you know he’s rich?” Harry finds himself asking.

“He was Liam’s boss back when he worked at a different production company. The man is loaded.”

“Alright then,” Harry agrees, face blank, devoid of the emotion he doesn't want to show. Louis runs off to his room, excited as he usually is at the beginning of a new plan. He's so blinded by his own anticipation that he can't see that everyday they do this, Harry's breaking apart.

➴➴➴

The night of Louis’ first date with Ben, Harry doesn’t listen in. There’s something about listening in on the love of his life with yet another man so soon that has Harry feeling sick. The time frames in which Louis goes out with these targets is getting closer and closer together. If the pattern continues, Harry’s afraid it’ll get to the point that there’s no rest at all.

That he won’t get to be alone with Louis ever again.

He tells Louis that his sister wants to sit down with him over dinner and that she’s only available tonight to do it. Obviously, it’s all a lie, but Louis buys it easily, not thinking Harry to be the type to lie. He even offers to change the night of their date, but Harry insists that he doesn’t keep Ben waiting, not when he’s only in town for a short while.

So Louis goes on his date.

And Harry drinks a third of the liquor cabinet.

He passes out sometime around eight, and Louis falls into bed at ten, waking him up. He smells like booze, and his body is limp - no doubt that Harry wasn’t the only one poisoning his liver tonight.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Louis sighs gently, his warm breath hitting Harry’s neck.

Harry groans and stretches out on the bed as much as he can without pushing Louis off. “Wha’time is it?”

There’s a giggle, the rustling of the sheets, and then Louis’ arms wrapping around Harry’s body. “ ‘s only 10, _Grandpa_. Why are you asleep?”

“Was tired.” He passed out after drinking too much.

“Well wake up,” Louis insists. “I want to talk.”

It takes a moment, but then Harry remembers exactly why he drank so much, exactly why he was passed out at ten pm on a Friday night. He knows what Louis wants to talk about, he knows to expect talks of _Ben_ and the magnificent date, and how wealthy the man is. Harry doesn’t _want_ to talk about that. He wants to talk about shitty television shows, and recipes that Louis’ failed to cook correctly, and the ridiculous plans they have for when they get out of the game.

Yet here they are, both far more impaired than necessary, and about to talk about a man that’s everything Harry isn’t.

For a moment, Harry’s tempted to fall back asleep, to ignore Louis’ incessant shoving of his shoulder, but he can’t do that. Not when Louis’ eyes are so bright and all he wants to do is talk to Harry.

“I’m awake,” he groans eventually.

Louis hums, but says nothing further. For a moment it’s quiet between them, Harry and Louis staring at each other, waiting for the first to speak. In the end, it’s Louis to break the silence, but instead of being light hearted, meaningless conversation, he manages to break Harry’s heart in six words.

“Why am I so fucked up?”

Almost as if he hadn’t just asked something so pained, so provoking of deep thought, Louis yawns. Harry feels his eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches Louis pout.

“Why can’t I find someone to love me?” He’s speaking so casually, and it feels surreal, like a bad dream brought on by all the rum he’d consumed. It’s real though - it’s _always_ real. “It’s like - ‘s like I meet someone cute and nice and then I steal from them.”

“I - ”

“How do you do it, Haz?” Louis asks, and Harry’s stunned with the accusatory tone he holds.

Harry’s mouth is dry and he swallows around nothing to try and answer. “How do I do what?”

“How do you just not date?” Louis huffs, both of his shoulders jolting with the movement. It’d almost be funny if Louis weren’t clearly hurting so bad. “You don’t sleep with _anyone_ . It’s been _years_ for you, hasn’t it?”

“About two years actually - ”

Louis gestures to him with a playful roll of his eyes. “Yeah, see? How do you do that?”

The answer’s easy. Harry doesn’t sleep with anybody because he _can’t_ . Nobody really chats him up anymore, and when they do, within the first few moments of talking, it’s obvious that his heart is bleeding for Louis, that there’s never even a _chance_ that he’d sleep with someone other than the only person he’s ever had eyes for. So the answer is quite simple.

Yet Harry can’t say any of it.

“I just don’t, I guess.”

Louis sighs, his head rolling overdramatically as he does. “I wish I could do that,” he says. “Could go so long. But these men, they smile at me, and make me feel good, and I just drop my trousers like some floozy because that’s the best it gets for me.”

“Louis - ”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna be happy, Haz.” For the first time that night, Harry sees real anguish in Louis’ eyes, and it breaks Harry. “You’re lucky you don’t think about love too much.” He pauses to yawn. “It’s a real burden.”

It’s not even a minute later that Louis’ falling asleep on Harry’s pillow, looking absolutely at peace as it pushes all the negative thoughts out of his head. The night goes on, but Harry stays awake.

All he can think about is love, pain, and how Louis doesn’t know just how fucking wrong he is.

➴➴➴

In the wake of their conversation, things turn sour in Harry’s mind.

Since the very moment they’d met, Harry’s been in love with Louis. It’s just who he is - a distant thrum in the back of his mind as he deals with watching Louis sleep with various wealthy men. Sometimes, though, sometimes it’s more than that.

Like now - after Louis’ just confessed his fear that nobody will ever love him, it’s all Harry can think about. How can he not - Louis’ the most intoxicating person Harry’s ever met, and even after years of sleeping in the room across the hall from him, Harry still finds everything he does absolutely captivating, still craves an intimacy that Louis shares with everybody _except_ him.

The idea that Louis thinks he isn’t loved is absolutely insane. He’s the only man Harry’s ever loved in his life.

In lieu of telling Louis, like any sane person would do, Harry keeps quiet. They’re taking from a big target tonight and the last thing Louis needs is for Harry to confess something that would change their entire dynamic and - more than likely - end their friendship. He chooses not to flip things around with a confession that’d do more than harm than good, and instead, sits back and watches on his laptop screen as Louis knocks on Ben’s hotel door, the textured ‘ **_804_ ** ’ mocking Harry.  

One day, Harry hopes to end this thing they call a career. It’d be nice to feel secure without risking their lives and reputations. It’d be even better to not bear witness to Louis using his body like a weapon.

On the screen, Ben answers the door and Harry immediately doesn’t trust him. He’s classically handsome - attractive in a way that would seem insignificant if he weren’t rich - and he looks absolutely _evil_. Harry wants Louis out of there, and fast, but he knows saying something wouldn’t be received well so he sits back and lets Louis smile whisper a hello to Satan reincarnate.

“Louis, welcome.” Ben leans forward to kiss Louis’ cheek and Louis sighs with it. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Of course.” One of the worst parts of all of this is that Harry doesn’t get to see Louis - he’s stuck watching these men that Louis chooses to share himself with instead of the ephemeral beauty that is the love of his life. “You’re only in town a few more days. I wanted to see you off.”

“See me off, is that right?” The smirk on Ben’s face at his own ‘joke’ has Harry feeling sick to his fucking stomach. “Come in, love. I’ve got wine.”

Ben extends his arm, holding the door open, and Louis enters, having to slide between Ben and the doorframe, the older of the two smirking as he does.

It’s infuriating.

As the night transpires, and Louis works his magic, Harry sits watching, absolutely miserable. The night seems to completely revolve around Ben - their conversations about his work, why he’s in town, and what type of deal he’s hoping to make with his clients. His hand has been climbing it’s way up Louis thigh as the conversation develops, getting more and more revolting in topics. At one point Ben makes a joke about wanting to vacation in Saint Barths before he goes to Los Cabos for Christmas, and the smug laugh he makes has Harry’s fists clenching at his side. What he’d give to punch this man square in the face…

The only thing getting Harry through these missions is knowing that these disgusting men only care about their wealth, and in the end, Louis and Harry are on the same page when it comes to money.

Nobody needs as much as Ben has.

“What do you say we take this to the bedroom?” Louis asks after they’ve been dancing around each other with subtle touches and soft voices for far too long. Harry breathes a sigh of relief. Once he pulls access to Ben’s files, he can close his computer and get out of this personal hell for a bit.

“I’m not normally this easy, but - ”

“Oh, I bet you aren’t,” Louis chuckles, cutting him off. “You are a man of respect, aren’t you?”

Ben leans down and all Harry sees is a flash of teeth as he bites Louis’ lip. The anger Harry feels burns in his throat. “I’m going to step into the bathroom, and when I get back, I want you naked in my bed.”

“Yes, sir.” Louis’ breathing is shallow, clearly affected by Ben’s kiss.

Harry rips the headphones out throws his head in his hands. It seems like more and more lately, the work is too much for him. Louis’ his own person, he can sleep with who he wants, but Harry can’t witness it anymore - each sly look is another crack in his porcelain heart, letting his love bleed out and drip until he’s empty. Only a shell of the man he used to be - having given everything to a man that will never love him back.

When Harry looks up, he sees Louis passing out of the kitchen and walking into the bedroom. It only takes a quick search for him to find the laptop under the bed and inserts the chip. Harry clicks the video out, not needing it anymore, and quickly saves all of Ben's files to his laptop, not doing anything yet because he doesn’t want to sit here while Louis’ being fucked by a man who embodies everything Harry hates in the world.

He grabs his phone and keys off the counter and storms out of their flat and into Niall’s. He slams the door shut and immediately begins pacing the hardwood floor.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry jerks at the sound of Niall’s voice to see him standing by the stove, stirring something in a skillet. He kind of wants to throw it across the room.

“I hate this,” he spits, walking closer to the tile of the kitchen before stopping himself and turning back. “I hate that we do this. I hate Liam Payne, and I hate Ben Winston.” He spins again and walks into the kitchen. He’s restless.

“I take it Louis’ date didn’t go well…” Niall says sarcastically, voice trailing off as he adds something to his pan.

“No, it did.” Harry’s skin is vibrating, he’s so upset. “It went great. It went, thigh squeezing, lip biting, ‘wait naked in my bed’ well.”

Niall smirks, licking his teeth, and Harry’s hands clench tightly at his sides. “Sounds kind of hot, actually,” he says. Harry punches Niall’s arm and Niall cackles as it makes him stumble a bit sideways. “You clearly have the insight as to what Louis likes, Harry. Why don’t you put them in play? Squeeze his thigh, bite his lip a little.”

“It’s more than sex, you know that.” Harry groans, bringing his hands up to his head, letting them loosen the strands at the top where it’s pulled into a bun. “I love him.”

It’s just plain frustrating at this point, loving Louis. He wants to be a supportive best mate, to be there for him when he needs somebody, but as of late it’s too difficult to do without letting his feelings get in the way. Hell, he’d even let them if there was even the smallest sliver of a chance that Louis liked him back. But he doesn’t want to try, doesn’t want to risk Louis lying about liking Harry if only to feel loved.

He doesn’t just want to fill a space in Louis’ life because he’s lonely.  

Suddenly, the phone in Harry’s hand starts vibrating, and not soon after, there’s a maddening repetitive beeping blasting from the speakers. It’s surprises him enough to drop the phone, and as it falls to the ground, Harry takes notices of the red covering the screen.

His heart falls to floor too.

Ignoring Niall’s questioning, Harry grabs his phone and races out of the flat and down the stairs, no time to stop and wait for the elevator.

There’s only been one other time Harry’s phone has gone that wild, and it was when they were first testing their emergency button years back when they’d first began to make their hobby something more serious. Neither of the two have ever been in a situation dangerous enough that they needed to press the button.

Until now.

Harry makes his way through the parking garage, pulling his keys from his pockets, and throwing himself into his car, and starting it before the door’s even shut. He’s driving before he even knows where he’s going.

The tracker on his phone pulls up automatically when the red alert is activated, something Harry never thought would be as important as he does right now.

In his head, he’s seeing visions of  what could be wrong, worries of Louis, hurt, dying - all because Harry’s a jealous arsehole that couldn’t handle just five more minutes to make sure everything was settled. The moment he closed the laptop he’d been filled with dread, and now Louis’ in danger, and it’s all Harry’s fault.

Thankfully Ben Winston is important enough to stay at the Park Plaza as it’s only a five minute drive from their flat. Harry’s pulling in front of the building and racing out without so much as locking his door. Blood is rushing to his ears and his heart is pounding through every inch of his body - it’s the most afraid he’s ever been.

The elevator takes too long, so Harry takes the stairs again, running as quickly as he can, taking two at a time, until he reaches the eighth floor. He slows his steps a bit, out of breath and trembling, as he goes down the hall, not allowing himself to rest until he comes across room ‘ **_804_ ** ’.

He tries the handle, and the door opens, but the chain is latched, preventing him from opening the door completely. Peeking inside, he can’t see any movement but then there’s a _thud_ and the sound of glass breaking, and Harry’s blood runs cold.

It’s not until Harry’s storming through the flat that he realizes he kicked the door open.

He finds Ben standing outside of a closed door, yelling obscenities and holding what looks like ripped fabric. As Harry gets closer, he realizes it’s a part of the shirt Louis was wearing when he’d left the house, and he reacts without thinking.

Ben turns when he senses Harry, but he doesn’t even get to fully ask, “Who are you” before Harry’s arm is pulling back and he’s knocking Ben directly in the face. He crumbles straight to the floor, and Harry doesn’t wait a moment to begin calling for Louis.

It’s a blur, pulling Louis from the hotel room, yelling a threat of what he’s to find on Ben’s computer were he to even _think_ about calling the police. It’s their failsafe.

Once he and Louis are successfully outside of the building, Harry doesn’t pull him to the car just yet. His mind is racing and both of them are shaking - Harry needs to make sure Louis’ not harmed.

The moment he pulls them into an alleyway next to the hotel, Louis’ falling into Harry’s arms, sobbing his heart out. Harry holds hims close, letting Louis cry into his shoulder for a while. They’ll be safer at home, but comforting Louis is his number one priority.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Harry whispers into Louis’ hairline. The guilt inside of him burns. “You mean the world to me, Lou, I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Louis’ crying doesn’t cease. If anything, it gets worse, breaking Harry’s heart with each wet gasp. “I love you so much, and you deserve better than men like Ben Winston. You deserve the world, and one day you’ll have it, love. You’ll be with someone who would bring you the stars and let them burn through his hands. You deserve everything.”

His words echo through the empty alleyway. Something between them snapped tonight.

➴➴➴

Louis sleeps through the next two nights, and Harry digs through every last encoded file on Ben’s laptop, grabbing every proof of fraudulent tax filing and unethical porn search he’s ever had. It takes a lot of work, but it’s necessary.

He sends off an email from a disposable address with the attached file. He writes “We all have secrets,” and gets nothing back in return. They’re safe, their profession is no longer at risk, but it doesn’t feel good at all.

They still failed, and it’s hitting Louis the hardest.

➴➴➴

It’s not until the third day after the incident that Louis comes out of his room. Harry and Niall have been standing around the kitchen chatting when Louis emerges. He’s dressed up, tight jeans and loose shirt, his pulling outfit. He’s missing the usual shine in his eyes and tilt to his lips that he has on a night spent clubbing, and Harry’s worried.

“Louis!” He yells, hoping he comes off as excited, but knowing he’s just being loud. “Hey, hi! What’re… What’s up?”

“I’m going out.” Louis tries to smile, but Harry knows him too well, can see the cracks in his mask, the hurt that’s shining through.

It’s been _years_ of them being best mates, and Harry’s been in love with him for nearly the entire time. He knows Louis’ strong, knows he’s a fighter, but sometimes that isn’t always a great thing. It’s times like these - times when something tragic happened and he needs nothing more than to rest - that the strength Louis has isn’t something he needs to prove. He can still be strong as he heals, and Harry only wishes he could see that.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, mind racing, trying to find a way to keep Louis from leaving. “Where to?”

“A club, I think?” Louis shrugs. “To scout for the next one. Rent is due in a week.”

He reaches for his keys, resting on the counter, but Harry swipes them before Louis’ hands make contact. “We have more than enough money saved up, love. We can wait until you’re feeling more up to it.”

“I can’t hide away forever,” Louis bites. He’s already beginning to walk around the counter to grab the keys from Harry’s palm. “We were almost caught, but we have to get over it. _I_ have to get over it.”

“I - I have this friend from the gym,” Niall speaks up. His eyes are wide, watching their exchange. Harry had completely forgotten he was there, but he isn’t worried about what he’s heard. Niall knows more than enough to have them convicted, but at this point he’s more of an accomplice than a witness. “He’s pretty well off - family money, you know? I think he’d be a great… _boyfriend_?”

Harry’s neck about snaps with the effort and speed he puts into looking at Niall. He feels betrayed, his eyes slitted as he tries to convey his anger and disappointment, but Niall’s absolutely relaxed, looking innocent, like he hadn’t just thrown the love of Harry’s life into bed with another man.

Not noticing the war Harry’s trying to declare, Louis merely shrugs. “Set it up I guess.” Niall nods and takes his phone out, and Louis takes Harry’s anger as the distraction he needs to rip the keys from his palm. “I still think I’m going to go out, though. I’ll see you later.”

Harry smiles thinly and waves as Louis leaves, but the moment the door shuts… “What the _fuck_ , Niall?”

“Don’t worry,” Niall waves his hand at Harry. “Zayn won’t sleep with him.”

“Then why - ”

“I have a plan, mate,” Niall says, looking up from his phone to grin. “You just need to trust me.”

He looks at Niall, sees the smirk on his face, the gleam in his eyes, and knows immediately that this is a bad idea. “I _don’t_.”

“Well you can’t say no now.” Niall looks down and continues his typing. Harry glares the entire time. He doesn’t trust him as far as he can throw him.

But he supposes he has to now.

➴➴➴

Despite Harry’s constant wishing that Niall’s friend would back out, the day of Louis’ scouting date comes. There’s really no need for Harry to stay listening as there are no results online for one Zayn Malik, but Louis wants him there for safety, so Harry’s in his bedroom, feeling like his heart is withering away, as he watches the screen closely, wanting for Louis to be anywhere else.

No deities are looking down on him, it seems, as Louis’ currently walking into the Hélène Darroze, speaking quietly with the maitre d. He’s quickly led to a table where there’s a man with his head down as he looks over a wine menu.

“Zayn?” Louis wonders. Zayn looks up and -

Of _course_ he’s beautiful. Fuck _off_ , Niall. He’s by far the most attractive lad Louis’ ever gone out with, and Harry finds himself fearing Louis may fall in love with him.

Harry’s already halfway there.

“Yeah.” Zayn smiles, and even Harry sighs at how fucking enchanting he is. Zayn stand up and holds his hand out for Louis to shake. “‘s nice to meet you.” When they break contact, Zayn pulls back, gesturing to the chairs. “Should we sit?”

His smile is ridiculous, and his eyes honest to god _sparkle_. Even through the camera lense, Harry’s charmed.

Louis lets out a laugh as they sit, sounding shocked, full of disbelief, and Harry can’t blame him. Somehow Niall - bitter, loud Niall - is friends with a Greek God, and he’s only chosen _now_ to share him with the world.

After a moment of silence, Louis clears his throat. “Niall didn’t tell me much about you, just that you met at the gym? Do you work there or?”

“At the gym?” Zayn laughs at the thought. “I’m a painter, actually. Photographer when I’m feeling experimental. I just go to the gym to blow off steam.”

The glasses fall and the camera angle is changed. Harry can tell Louis’ playing coy, and it makes his hands clench at his side.

“You look more like the subject than the artist,” he flirts. Zayn smirks, licking his teeth, and Harry’s knows he’s fucked.

From there, things develop, but Harry never has to even _attempt_ to google anything. Zayn’s only asking about Louis, interested in hearing only about his life. It’s all stuff Harry knows, has known for most of his adult life, and the only reason he even sticks around is to hear Louis speak with passion. It’s something Harry’s always loved, the way Louis cares so deeply, and isn’t afraid to say he does, letting all of his love bleed into his words.

So the date occurs, and it’s not _too_ uncomfortable to watch. That is, at least, until Zayn bring Harry’s up.

“So you live with your mate from college?” he asks, taking a sip of his wine. Louis nods, the camera jolting a bit with the eager movement. “How’s that going?”

“Really well, I’d say.” The camera moves down as he speaks, not quite looking at Zayn any longer. “Harry’s a good friend.”

Harry’s heart drops at the word. It’s poison to his feelings.  

“And nothing, you know, happened, like.” Zayn speaks like he knows the answer to all of his questions already, and it makes Harry’s heart pound in his chest. “Neither of you have wanted to take it further?”

Without thinking about how fucking obvious it is, Harry speaks in the microphone, “Louis, I think you’ve got it from here. I’m taking off. Buzz me if you need me.” He rips his earphones out, not wanting to hear Louis desecrate any possibilities of them actually ending up together.

He paces the flat for a while, wanders in and out of Louis’ room a few times before shaking his head, deciding to just suck it up and move on already. He grabs his phone from the living room table and goes to Niall’s.

Niall is at his table looking over a bunch of papers, he has glasses hanging low on his nose. Harry almost feels bad for disturbing him… _almost_. When Niall senses Harry, he looks up, nose scrunching, and he pushes his glasses back up.

Harry watches the whole thing, wishing he was in the mood to laugh at how nerdy Niall looks. Instead, he can only frown. “Your mate Zayn is weird.”

“Is the date over?” Niall looks gleeful and Harry kind of wants to hit him a few times. Then after, fall into his chest crying. He looks away instead.

“No, I couldn’t listen anymore,” Harry says. “He kept asking - ”

“Haz, What the _fuck_?” At Niall’s bite, Harry looks up, to see Niall standing now, eyes slitted. “Get back over there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, eyebrows falling together. “It’s like he’s giving Louis a job interview, and I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Harry,” Niall groans. His shoulders hunch, his hands falling on the table to support his weight. “ _Please_ , for love of Christ, just go back and listen. Zayn’s trying to get Louis to talk, trying to end this whole fucking…” He gestures around at Harry, hand waving carelessly. “Thievery, Robin Hood, wealthy martyr _bullshit_ you’ve got going on.”

Harry’s eyes widen, not at the yelling or the language or the insult of it all, but because Niall’s gone and done something he’s never done in all of the years and years he’s know Harry and Louis. “You - you mentioned our stealing.”

“Harry,” Niall’s lips are pursed, and he’s refusing to play along with Harry’s shock. “Get the fuck out of my flat, and go listen, I beg of you.” When Harry doesn’t move, Niall’s frenzied eyes and wild gestures change to him rushing out of the chair and shoving Harry out of his flat with a few bruising shoves.

Confused, and now locked out of his neighbor’s place, Harry walks back into his own flat, to his bedroom, still shocked, but ready to do as Niall says. When he opens the laptop, it takes a moment to load, and then it reveals a video of the sidewalk.

It seems the dinner is over, and now Louis’ walking somewhere. Harry sits, waiting to hear Zayn’s voice, or to his face on the camera, but it doesn’t come. Harry doesn’t even realize he never put his earphones in until there’s an odd noise coming from them. As he goes to grab them, Louis onscreen places his phone in front of the camera, bringing up his contacts and clicking Harry’s name.

Harry digs around in his pockets, pulling out his phone just as it starts ringing. “Hello?” he answers, not sure what to expect. “Louis?” There’s a sad, weepy gasp, and Harry wants to hold him immediately. “Love? Are you alright?”

“Zayn wasn’t interested in me.”

“What happened?” Harry rushes to ask. “Did he say something?”

It’s silent for a minute, and Harry holds his breath. The only thing stopping him from urging an answer out of Louis is seeing on screen, still walking and perfectly fine. “No…” He sighs. “Yeah… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s alright too,” Harry all but whispers. He feels so lost. Niall’s insistence that he watch Louis, only leading to him walking home. It all feels off. “Do you - where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I’m almost home.” He’s not. He’s at least a fifteen minute walk, but Harry doesn’t call him out on it. “Could you, um, make me some tea or something? I just - ”He sniffles, and suddenly there’s a lump in Harry’s throat.

Something happened. Something that hurt Louis’ feelings.

“Yeah, ‘f course, Lou.”

The camera moves up and down, and then Louis’ taking a deep breath.  “Thank you. I’ll be home soon, I just - ”

He cuts himself off and Harry understands completely, doesn’t want to make him keep talking when it’s so clearly a challenge for him. “I’ll see you soon, alright?” He lets sincerity bleed into his tone, not wanting Louis to doubt how much he cares. “Stay safe.”

Louis’ voice is barely there when he says bye, and then the line goes dead. Louis stops walking the moment his phone is in his pocket, falling into the side of a building as he sobs loud enough Harry can hear it through the earphones he isn’t wearing.

All Harry wants is to listen, wants to be there, but he feels dirty for invading Louis’ privacy. So he shuts the laptop screen and goes to start the kettle up.

Louis gets home twenty minutes later and immediately falls into Harry’s arms. Harry holds him as he sobs into his chest, knowing that it’s time to comfort his best mate. Even so, he can’t help but feel like this is for him as well. Whatever happened, whatever broke Louis, broke a bit of Harry too.

Louis calms down from his tears after a few minutes, and Harry takes him to the living room, laying him down and cuddling him close as they let a movie go unwatched in the background. Louis only takes a few drinks of his tea, and Harry only gets more worried.

They don’t talk about the date, they don’t bring up Zayn, or their work, or _anything_. They pretend to watch a film, both overthinking everything and speaking nothing of it.

It’s not until a few hours later, as Harry is falling asleep, that Louis finally whispers, “I’m beginning to think nobody could ever love someone as broken as me.”

And Harry’s heart breaks.

➴➴➴

It’s been a hard few days, and Louis’ confidence is at an all time low after two unsuccessful, soul-crushing missions. Harry spends the time seething, cursing Niall out for throwing Louis into the arms of somebody who was just going to spit him out in the end.

It’s a dark time in their flat for sure, but Harry gets to work.

He begins scouting for events occurring soon, and he searches the guest list for those who are set to be in attendance. As sick as it makes him, as much as he hates the idea of Louis falling into bed with someone, this is what he needs. This is what Harry can do for him.

One day, it won’t come to this. One day, their finances will be secure enough for Louis, and he will believe in himself again, and they won’t have resort to this dirty work. But for now, Harry hacks into a local club’s computers and gets himself and Louis on the list.

It’s his last chance, and he _needs_ it to work.

➴➴➴

Their target’s name is Nick Grimshaw.

When Harry first came across his name on the guest list for an exclusive club opening, he’d been skeptical. Wealthy men are almost a commodity in London, easy to come by and nothing special, if Harry’s speaking honestly. Any given day of the week, Harry can walk into an event and find at least three men ready to fall to their knees ready to bed Louis - that’s never been an issue.

Finding men in the public eye is where lies the _real_ treasure.

In the years they’ve spent in their profession, Harry’s noticed a few things about Louis’ preferences. While getting any attention is an ego boost for Louis, he feels spectacularly confident when he’s targeting someone famous - or at least well known.

Harry first noticed Louis’ interest about a year after they’d graduated uni when Harry made friends with a local stage actor, Fionn. Fionn visited the flat quite often to listen to music with Harry and enjoy a drink or two. They’d never robbed Fionn - he was never interested in Louis like that - but on the odd occasion that he’d compliment Louis or spend a noticeable amount of time chatting to him, Louis would spend the next few days floating above the ground.

The first famous target they had - an American actor - nearly stole Louis from the game completely. Chad Michael Murray, Louis’ childhood crush, was a get Harry still to this day can’t believe they landed. The man was putty in Louis’ hand, and they could’ve stolen his entire fortune effortlessly. The only issue was just how strongly Louis returned his feelings.

The only thing preventing him from running away to America with Chad was Louis realizing exactly what it’d mean to uproot his life, to move thousands of miles from his friends and family. In the end, he broke Chad’s heart, and for months Louis walked cock first into every room, and took any man he wanted as a target - even the married men claiming they were straight.

Louis couldn’t be stopped.

It’s the kind of confidence he needs to get back. Harry refuses to rest until Louis’ back to the strong, self-assured man he is, one hand in his pocket and the other in the bank accounts of wealthy men.

Nick Grimshaw is a successful television and radio host, and he’s absolutely adored by England’s general public. Getting him alone is going to be difficult. But once accomplished, it will be easy to charm him as he has proven to be easy to talk to. And when Louis has him, it'll put an end to the past misfortunes.

He’ll be his typical, wonderful self again.

Right now, Louis’ deep into the crowd of writhing, dancing bodies, trying to get close to Nick. Harry’s keeping his eye out, but he lost track of him when he disappeared onto the dancefloor fifteen minutes ago, and Harry figures there’s no use in both he and Louis sweating their arses off in the crowd.

Instead, Harry’s resorted to resting at the bar, listening to Louis ramble in his earphone, pissed that Nick grabbed some twink to dance with when Louis was standing _right_ there.

“I’ve been told my arse is to die for,” Louis bites, “but he couldn’t’ve cared less, are you kidding me?”

Harry chuckles a bit at that. It’s the closest Louis’ come to sounding like himself in awhile, so it’s great to hear, even if it means they aren’t any closer to having Nick on the hook. “We’ll get another chance soon, Louis.”

“Oh will we?”

“Of course.” Harry’s voice has dropped a bit, hoping he sounds sincere in his attempt to talk Louis up. “You never fail, remember?”

Louis mumbles, “Failed once,” and Harry bites his lip at the bitter tone.

This is all they need, just _one_ solid target to turn Louis’ mindset around. Things will go back to normal, and they can be LouisandHarry again, stealing from the wealthy to support their own frivolous, platonic lifestyle.

“Try catching him when the song switches,” Harry advises, needing to say something to turn Louis’ attitude around, to share some optimism. “Maybe he’ll get tired of his twink.”

“If I can find them, I’ll give it a shot.”

Harry bites his tongue against yelling at Louis for losing them. He needs to make tonight a positive one, needs Louis’ self-esteem high. He can’t yell for something that easily would’ve happened to himself. “I’ll keep an eye out at the bar.”

Louis laughs. “Have a Guinness in my honor.”

“If I’m having a Guinness, it’s for Niall, love.”

The night goes on, and Louis continues his search in the crowd as Harry keeps an eye on the outskirts. They’re both unsuccessful in finding Nick, and too long has past for them to be sure he’s still in the club, so they begin to discuss calling it quits and trying another night, possibly even going for a casual meeting outside the BBC building, when there’s a voice next to Harry’s.

“Hiya, love.” There’s a familiarity to it that Harry can’t quite place. “Is this seat taken?”

Harry looks up and upon recognizing the face before him, he chokes on his drink a bit. “I - uh, no. No it isn’t.” Harry gestures for Nick Grimshaw to have a seat, and he smiles.

It’s just as charming in person as everyone says.

“So what are you doing up here all by your lonesome?” Nick asks once he’s settled. He’s leaning heavily on his right side, his entire body aimed at Harry as he engages in conversation.

“Who is that, Harry?” Louis asks through the ear phones. He sounds annoyed, and Harry only wishes he could just yell for him to get over here. “They’re awfully loud.”

“I’m, um…” Harry gestures to the dancefloor loosely, feeling drunk despite his overwhelming sobriety. “My friend went to dance.”

Nick hums, but it doesn’t seem dismissive. In fact, he leans a bit closer to Harry, eyes scanning over his features. “Your friend, huh? Any chance your friend minds me stealing your attention for a bit?”

“I don’t - ”

Louis’ agitated sigh rings through the earphones. “Seriously, Haz, who is that?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answers Nick, unable to say anything to Louis without looking insane.

Nick laughs.

“Don’t know?” Nick laughs. Despite Harry slightly brushing him off,  “Well how about you think of it, and if he doesn’t mind, I buy you a drink?”

“Okay…”

Harry looks out in the crowd, eyes dashing between both ends for a moment before Louis emerges, looking for Harry with the space between his brows wrinkled in confusion. When he sees Harry his eyes widen, surprise evident on his face.

“Nick Grimshaw is next to you,” Louis says. Harry goes to respond but Louis shakes his head. “We can work with this.” Work with this? They don’t need to ‘work with this.’ Harry needs Louis to come over here and sit on Nick’s lap or do whatever he does to seduce their targets. “I’m heading over, don’t look at me.”

Without appearing suspicious, Harry looks away, glancing at Nick. It was the wrong move as Nick’s already smiling at him, so Harry smiles back, timid and confused.

He waits a moment, but soon looks up and sees Louis settling on the opposite end of the bar. He doesn’t know what’s happening, can’t understand why Louis isn’t over here to seduce their target, but he trusts Louis to know what he’s doing.

Or at least, he thought he did until -

“Alright, Haz. It looks like this one’s yours.” Harry looks to Louis with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to laugh, say he’s joking, and come take his target, but Louis isn’t smiling, and Harry knows he’s serious. “Apologize to him, and tell him you’re a bit starstruck. He’s a narcissist, he’ll be flattered.”

Harry holds his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling nervous in a way he never has before. He’s sitting in Louis’ place, about to attempt to seduce their target, something he’s never done, never had the _ability_ to, and it’s all a bit much.

He has to calm himself down, and hype himself up. This is their only chance, and they can’t let the target slip through their fingers. Harry takes a deep breath and turns to speak, only when he does, Nick’s mouth is open to say something. They both close their mouths, and Harry lets out a disbelieving laugh.

Nick gestures to him. “You can go first, love.”

“I - ”

It’s been a long journey leading them here, years and years of manipulating wealthy men and robbing them blind. Every step of the way, Louis and Harry have been together, on each other’s side. That’s how Louis can tell when Harry’s about to drown, when this is all about to become too much.

Which is why, in a soft, calm voice, he says, “C’mon, Haz. You can do this.” It’s not the pep talk of the century, and it doesn’t fill Harry with all of the confidence in the world. But it’s something. Something good, something pure. It’s a light in the darkness guiding Harry’s way.

He can do this.  

Through a thick throat, Harry rasps, “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, needing to get ahold of himself. Louis’ watching, rooting him on, he can’t let him down. “I’m just a big fan.”

If at all possible, Harry can actually _see_ Nick’s head get bigger.

“Are you?” he asks. Harry nods, hoping it comes off more sincere than awkward. “And here I thought I could chat up a man who hasn’t yet been tainted by the media’s portrayal of a poor, single radio personality.”

“Chat up?”

“Jesus Christ.” There’s a thump from the other end of the headphones, and looking over, Harry can see that Louis’ thrown his head into his arms.

Nick laughs and something sharp takes over his grin. “You sound surprised. I’m sure you’ve got plenty other suitors besides myself.”

“I don’t - not usually.” Suddenly Harry feels overwhelmed. Nick’s awfully close, and he’s showering Harry in these hidden compliments. He’s not meant to be here, this isn’t his role. “ _Ever_ , really.”

Usually it’s Louis everyone has their eyes on. Not that Harry can blame them - he’s always doing the same. It’s a big part of the reason he’s managed to go so long without sleeping with anybody - Louis takes up so much space, he’s so lively and vibrant. When they’re together, all anybody can watch is Louis.

Which is exactly how it should be.

“You’re blind, Haz,” Louis mumbles.

“I’m finding that hard to believe, love,” Nick says. He keeps leaning in closer, filling Harry’s space with his own. He has no clue how Louis does this often. “You’re by far the most interesting person here tonight.”

Harry laughs a bit. “But you’re Nick Grimshaw.”

“That I am.” Nick grins, and Harry can see exactly how he’s managed to charm the majority of England. “I see celebrities everyday of my life. I think I know a star when I see one.” Harry can feel himself blushing, is unsure of what to do next when Nick’s looking at him like he’s the only person in the club.

“He’s _really_ throwing you lines.” Louis laughs, the usually joyful sound a bitter ache in Harry’s ear. Suddenly he feels shitty. This was supposed to be for Louis. Louis who keeps getting rejected - and here Harry is stealing his thunder, his target. It makes him sick.

“Listen - ”

“I don’t - ”

They both chuckle a bit, and Nick takes it upon himself to speak first. “I don’t want this to be some club hookup, so what do you say about me giving you my number? You could give me a call in the morning and we could get dinner.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat and he looks to Louis, only to see Louis’ eyes focused on the bartop, his mouth set in a firm line. He’s upset, and Harry’s to blame. “I don’t - ”

“Haz, give him your number,” Louis insists in his ear. “We need this cash.”

They _don’t_.

That’s always Louis’ go-to response, that they need the cash, but they don’t. They’ve got enough set aside to live comfortably without working for the next decade. Tonight was to to benefit Louis, to make him feel good about himself again. To see his worth. But Louis’ insisting, and Harry doesn’t want to say no to him.  

He never _could_ say no to Louis and his beautiful blue eyes and his heart filled with love.

“How about I give you mine?” Harry offers instead.

Nick grins and hands his phone off. Harry starts to fill out his contact, feeling absolutely shaken. This is unseen territory for him. “How do I know you’re not giving me a decoy?”

“You could call me right now.”

Nick shrugs. “I’ll just trust that you’re a good lad who wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”

His eyes are on Harry, so Harry grins, but there’s self depreciating layer to it. He would never hurt anyone’s feelings intentionally, but the whole purpose is to rob Nick blind, and it feels like a lie for him to let Nick call him good.

“Harry, huh?” Nick asks when he has the phone is his hands again. He’s staring at the screen with a smirk, but Harry nods anyway.  “It’s fitting. Expect a call from me tomorrow.”

Almost before Harry realizes, Nick disappears into the crowd and toward the door. It almost doesn’t feel like a real moment.

Only it _is_. It is real, and Harry’s just gone and stolen the one person Harry’ thought could restore Louis’ confidence. He immediately turns to Louis, his heart is hammering in his chest. “I’ll find a new target,” he begins explaining, nearly unable to hear his own words through the blood rushing to his ears. “I’ll turn him down when he calls, I - ”

“Don’t be silly, Haz,” Louis laughs, but it’s lifeless. “You haven’t been out in two years, here’s your chance.” He sounds hurt, and Harry hates that he stole Louis’ target.

He hates even more that the idea of sleeping with anyone other than Louis burns in his throat and feels like swallowing glass.

“Perfect, then.”

➴➴➴

Being the bait isn’t as difficult as Harry thought it’d be. He’d always assumed Louis was just a _fantastic_ actor - and he is - but it’s not difficult to find common interests with Nick as it seemed.

Over the course of the past week, Harry’s made it awkwardly through one date with Nick and successfully through a second. They’ve even been texting each other day and night, sharing music recommendations and terrible jokes. He’s no romantic interest in him, but they have similar tastes in just about _everything_.

So much so, Louis was proven useless halfway through the first date in terms of research as Harry fell into easy banter and conversations about music, fashion, and literature, something that eased Harry’s nerves about the situation, and settled the niggling worry in the back of his mind. Even the things they disagree with, there’s a level of respect in their faux outrage. Harry truly enjoys Nick’s company.

Just not the same way as Louis’.

It’s their third date, usually when he’d sleep with someone, were he actually dating them, and Harry’s ready to end this mission. While he enjoys Nick’s company, doesn’t hate spending time with him liked he’d thought he would, he knows it’s time. The microchip is burning a hole in his pocket and he’s a bundle of nerves.

Always able to tell when Harry’s not feeling completely confident, Louis’ spent the last two and a half minutes trying to give Harry a pep talk through the earphones as Nick pours them both glasses of wine in the kitchen, and as much as Harry would like to say it’s not doing anything to ease his mind, it’s actually working.

The only thing getting him through it - the only thing that gets him through _anything_ , really - is Louis in his ear, being supportive.

“Haz, I promise, it’s easy,” Louis’ mumbling. He’s been at it for a bit, but Harry still shakes his head, feeling stubborn. “Don’t tell me no. You don’t have to sleep with him, you don’t even have to kiss him, but you have to make him think you will.”

“I _can’t_.”

“You’ve done well the past two dates, there’s something there,” Louis railroads over Harry’s insistence, refusing to give an inch. “Just act like it’s a real date, and sneak in the microchip when you have a chance.” Harry opens his mouth, but Louis keeps speaking. “Just imagine it’s Tuesday night with me back in uni, then. When we’d splurge on fancy wine and cuddle til morning. Can you do that for me, Haz?”

The supportive speech doesn’t continue, and Harry takes a deep breath. He hears the glasses clinking together in the kitchen and knows he needs to get it together, and fast. It’s Tuesday, Louis’ drunk on wine, and Harry’s feeling cuddly.

He can do this. He _needs_ to do this.

Nick returns with the wine glasses, and instead of the stabbing pain of his own panicking, Harry feels light. He grins, something breathless, as he pictures it’s nineteen year old Louis coming back, ready to share secrets until dawn. “Took you long enough.”

Nick looks to Harry, shock evident on his face, but it soon melts to something much more fond. “Well I had to get the good glasses out of the back of the cupboard,” he says. “A bit of a struggle, it was.”

“I’m glad you think I’m worth it then,” Harry teases, watching Nick place the glasses on the coffee table.

He chuckles, and though it’s a bit deeper than Louis’ laugh, Nick speaks with a northern tone, and it’s easy for Harry to convince himself it’s Louis. “You’re worth _more_ , love.”

“ _Everything_ ,” Louis breathes softly. Harry thinks it’s the beginning of more advice, but when Louis doesn’t continue, Harry shrugs.

“What do you say I put on _The Editors_ ’ album I was telling you about,” Nick suggests, “and we can get more comfortable.”

“I - ”

Before Harry can overthink things, before he can back out of the deal or start acting strange with is own anxiety about the situation, Louis’ in his head, ready with some advice.

“Bite your lip, Haz.” He sounds bored, sighing with it. Harry tilts his head a bit in question. “Your lips,” he repeats, “He’ll - just do it, please.”

Harry listens, biting his lip in Nick’s direction. “I think I’d like that.”

Nick’s eyes get slightly hooded and he goes for the record player without another word. Harry’s eyes widen as soon is his back is turned. It _worked_ for some unknown reason, and he even managed to stun Nick speechless - something Harry’s sure rarely happens.

“Told you.”

Louis sounds bitter, and Harry feels guilty. It only makes sense that it’s his own go-to move when seducing these men, and Harry’s the one that gets to use it. He swallows the apology in his throat and takes a glass off the table. He’ll need to be drunk to get through tonight, it seems.

So together, he and Nick listen to the album, talk, and drink their wine. Harry allows himself to flirt a bit, trying to relate this to being in uni, experiencing having spare money for the first time, falling in love with his best friend over a glass of rosé.

It’s easy.

Eventually, as they’re finishing a deep conversation about the hidden meaning behind Helen Oyeyemi’s writing, Louis sighs in the earphones, reminding Harry that they aren’t alone, this isn’t university, and they’ve a mission that needs to be completed.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up,” Harry says suddenly, setting his glass on the table and pulling away from where he was leaning against Nick’s arm.

A smug grin takes over Nick’s wine red lips as he gestures behind himself. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” Harry stands, stumbling a bit, not quite used to using his legs after so long. Nick helps him, a gentle hand on his hip until he’s stable again. “There’s a love.”

Harry heads off as Nick collects their glasses and goes into the kitchen. Harry slips into Nick’s study, seeing the laptop immediately. He walks over and slides the chip in, double checking that it’s secure before he scurries into the bathroom.

He didn’t lie, he really does need to use the toilet.

“Jesus christ,” Louis groans, his voice a tad raspy. “It took you long enough. I nearly fell asleep.”

 _Sorry_ ,” Harry hines, pulling himself from his trousers. “I forgot all about it.”

“I could tell.” The bitter tone is back, again it feels like Harry’s skin is too tight, wishing he hadn’t have stolen Louis’ target. “You were seconds away from offering to blow him under his desk at the radio station.” 

Harry splutters. “I wasn’t.”

“Whatever.” Louis doesn’t say anything else for a moment, the silence between them lasting until Harry finishes and tucks himself back into his pants. “The chip is in, I’m pulling the files over.”

“Make sure you do a system scan too,” Harry tells him. “We need any information we can get in case we need a back up.”

Louis huffs and it hurts to hear. It seems like there’s nothing he can do to get things back to normal - every attempt he makes turning sour. “I _know_. I’m not a complete idiot.”

“I didn’t say that you were.”

Harry washes up, waiting for an _all clear_ from Louis to confirm he can take their chip back. Instead he gets, “Uh… Haz.” When Harry sighs, Louis continues. “The files disappeared.”

It happens sometimes. They’ve not updated their system in far too long, and sometimes the app malfunctions. It’s no big deal, and Louis only sounds so worried because he’s not been on the other side of operations, Harry’s sure.

“It’s probably just a glitch,” he says. “Try refreshing the app.”

“Okay, alright.” It’s almost as though Louis’ talking to himself. There’s a shake in his voice, but Harry has no idea why he’s so nervous. “Just a glitch.”

Harry wipes his hands on a spare towel and walks out. Almost immediately, he runs into Nick, who’s leaning against the wall just outside the door. He smiles when Harry approaches him.

“Were you waiting for me?” Harry asks, making sure to smile so Nick doesn’t suspect anything is amiss. He sincerely hopes he hadn’t overheard Harry speaking to Louis.

“I was.”

Harry’s grin turns a bit smug and leans in. “What do you say we do now that the wine’s all gone?”

Nick chuckles, though it’s not like it has been for the past hour or so. There’s a guarded layer to it that worries Harry. “I think it’s best you head home.”

Harry frowns. “Are you sure? I thought we were - ”

“I like you a lot, love,” Nick cuts him off, sighing. “But I don’t think you’re here all the way.” He points to his his head, and Harry can feel himself beginning to panic.

If Nick can sense that Harry’s not invested as deeply as Nick is, then Harry will have to go home. He doesn’t have the chip, and with the app glitching, they don’t have the information they need. This whole trip will be a bust, Louis will be let down, and Harry -

Well his ego wouldn’t be able to take being turned down by the only person to show him any interest in the past two years.

He _needs_ this to work out.

“But I do - ”

“I know you only said yes to me that night in the club because you were too polite to say no,” Nick accuses, making Harry flush. He wants to argue, wants to put up a fight, but he feels too embarrassed that Nick could see right through him. “Head home, Harry. Sort yourself out, figure out what you want, and give me a call if things change.”

For someone who seems so shallow on paper, Nick Grimshaw is perceptive. He saw right through Harry, could tell he wasn’t there, and kicked him out. All of it rendering Harry speechless.

Nick grabs Harry’s hand and slides something into his palm. Harry doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t look, worried it’s what he thinks it is. He holds it as Nick glides past him and into the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Harry allows himself to look down, opening his palm. He sees the microchip resting there, staring back at him, and it settles in his head.  

They’ve failed.

➴➴➴

Harry gets back after a long, sad walk, and he can’t even look Louis in the eye.

Their flat doesn’t feel like home anymore.

➴➴➴

The night after his disaster of a date with Nick, Harry wakes up feeling tired, ashamed, and just plain confused. The night before, his only attempt at taking on Louis’ position was an absolute failure - he knows it, Louis knows it, even Nick Grimshaw knows it.

Yet they spoke nothing of it, the line of tension between them pulled tighter. There’s something going unsaid, something that’s taking his and Louis’ friendship and shredding it to bits.

Their flat is filled with the feeling that something’s wrong, and Harry doesn’t know how to fix it because he doesn’t know what’s making things feel so off, and every time he attempts to make something better, it blows up in his face and things get worse. It seems like in the past few months, Harry’s completely forgotten how to be Louis’ friend.

He makes a decision, as he’s stretching out on his bed, to talk it out with Louis - to finally settle things and go back to normal. He’ll make a nice breakfast to butter him up, and then they’ll sit in the living room and not leave until it’s like it was a few months ago, with both truly enjoying each other’s company, more than just coexisting as Harry hopelessly pined after his best mate, watching him get fucked by wealthy men.

They’ll get their system back, Harry’s positive.

Only, when he steps out of his room, ready to make the best breakfast this flat has ever seen, the kitchen is a mess. There’s a stack of awkward looking pancakes sitting on the counter alongside a bottle of syrup and two mugs of steaming tea. Dishes are piled next to the sink and there’s a pile of pancake mix next to an empty box. Behind it all, Louis’ rushing around, wearing Harry’s apron as he searches all of the cabinets, slamming them shut when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for.

“Uh…” At the sound of Harry’s voice, Louis jumps and turns to face the entryway. “Morning?”

There are dark grey bags under Louis’ eyes that take up half his face. He smiles, but it’s lacking its usual energy. He definitely hasn’t slept, and Harry wants to wrap him in a blanket and lie him down.

“I made you breakfast!” Louis gestures to the food on the counter, and Harry walks closer, eyes slitted in hesitance.

“I can see that.”

“I was going to bring it to you in bed, but I can’t find a tray,” Louis rambles. His eyes are a bit wild, and Harry’s curious to see what Louis’ trying to accomplish with this whole event. “I know we have one because you used to bring me eggy bread all the time, but I just - ”

“It’s in the attic,” Harry tells him, effectively cutting him off. “You started wanting to eat in the kitchen, so I packed it up.”  

Louis huffs, his hands going up in the air. “I wasted a lot of time looking for that.”

“Sorry.”

Between them, the rope of tension pulls tighter. It seems they can’t even have a normal conversation without things being palpably strained, trapping them in an uncomfortable limbo.

Needing something to do, something to help push things forward, Harry walks over and takes a seat in front of an empty plate. The pancakes sit in front of him - a bit ugly, too dark and misshapen. Louis made them, though, and he looks so hopeful as Harry reaches forward with his fork, and Harry can’t help but think they’re better, more meaningful, than anything he would’ve made.

Louis makes his way over and slides into the empty seat next to Harry, reaching for his own pancake, arms tense. Harry bites back a comment of how good he looks in the apron. There are much more important things to discuss.

“I think we need to talk,” Harry says.

Louis sighs. He’s staring at his plate, not making an effort to eat it. “We do. I just - ” He cuts himself off to continue staring at his plate. Harry waits for him to continue, but he doesn’t, only cuts off a piece of pancake and puts it in his mouth.

“What, um, where should we start?” Harry asks, but Louis only shrugs and continues to eat his dry, unbuttered pancake. He knows there’s something going on, and it’s his mission to figure out what it is and put it back to normal. Even if he has to force it out of Louis. “Things have been really weird between us, and I think it has a lot to do with what we do, and I know you like it a lot, but - ”

“I think we should stop.” Louis’ voice comes out muffled from his food, but Harry hears it loud and clear. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“I think so too,” he agrees, feeling like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “It was good for a while, but it’s getting too complicated. Especially these last few months - ”

“Haz, I need to tell you something,” Louis interrupts him, voice coming out hurried and breathless. Harry’s looks at him with wide eyes, but Louis’ are closed, pinched tightly as his head faces forward. Harry doesn’t say anything, lets Louis work everything out on his own as Harry’s mind races, wondering what on earth it could be about. Eventually, Louis takes a deep breath. “I like you.”

Everything goes still and silence blankets the kitchen.

Blood rushes in Harry’s ears, and at first he believes he heard Louis wrong, but Louis’ eyes are watching him now, open, blue, and earnest. Harry’s vision is slightly blurred, and none of this feels real.

“Are you joking?”

Misinterpreting Harry’s disbelief as a rejection, Louis’ eyes immediately narrow, and his mouth tenses as he throws his fork down. It bounces off the table and clatters to the floor, but Harry can only watch the open rage on Louis’ face.

“Fuck you,” he bites. Harry pulls back, jaw dropping at the heat in his words. “Honestly, you know how hard talking about feelings is for me, and the moment I start opening up, you turn into a right prick.” Louis pushes himself away from the table and grabs his plate, walking away from the counter, muttering to himself. “I let Zayn convince me that maybe, _maybe_ , you felt the same, but - ”

“Zayn?” Harry asks, voice shaky with the rush of emotions he’s suddenly facing.

“Yes, Zayn,” Louis replies, making his way towards the sink and away from Harry. “He’s a nice lad, but he apparently doesn’t know shit about - ”

“Were you being serious?”

Louis drops his plate in the sink. It clatters obnoxiously against the metal at the bottom, but Louis doesn’t react, only turns to face Harry, face red in his anger. “ _Obviously_ , arsehole,” he spits. “I made you fucking brekky, and told you I liked you - ”

“Are you just saying that because of…” Harry trails off, not able to think of how to put it, how to get his thoughts across without sounding like an utter prick.

“Because of what?”

“I don’t _know_.” There’s no way he can ask what he wants without offending Louis, but he needs to just ask, to get it out of the way so he knows for sure. “Is it because you feel bad about yourself and you’re settling?”

Louis’ face turns an odd shade of red. It’s the angriest Harry's ever seen him. “ _Fuck_ you.”

“Louis - ”

“No really, Haz. Go fuck yourself. I can’t believe you’d even - ” He cuts himself off, breathing heavy. There’s a moment of quiet, a moment where Harry wants to speak up, but Louis barrels on. “I’ve liked you for a long time now, but I thought it’d never happen. Lately I’ve allowed myself to think of the possibility, but I can see that was a mistake.”

The words, said in Louis’ shaky, broken voice, are like a vise around Harry’s heart. Even still, as much as he wants to believe Louis, he feels nervous, scared, still not convinced this isn’t his mind playing tricks on him. He’s been in love with Louis since he knew what love was, and finding out Louis may feel the same is something short of a miracle.

“Louis - ”

“ _No_ ,” Louis interrupts, his foot stomping as his fists clench at his sides. “I’ve liked you for a while, but you’ve never made a move, you’ve never said _shit_ . You treat me like your best mate, and I dealt with it. I focused on our targets, trying to find something in these men, and coming up short because they weren’t _you_ . But that night with Ben, when you - ” Louis looks up to the ceiling and blinks a few times, a telling sign that he’s fighting tears. “That night when you held me, and you told me you loved me, and said I deserved the world, I thought _maybe_. I thought maybe I was worth it, and you felt the same.” Harry opens his mouth, wanting to say it’s true, but Louis persists. “Then I meet up with Zayn, and I tell him all about you and about what we do, and he tells me that maybe you like me, that I’d never know unless I tried. Well he was right. I fucking tried.”

“Louis - ”

He shakes his head, sniffling with the motion. “I think I should move.”

“Let me _talk_ Louis,” Harry yells, only feeling slightly bad when Louis jumps at the volume. “ _Jesus_.” Harry pushes himself away from the table and stands to approach Louis at the sink. “You stubborn prick, I’m trying to tell you I like you too.”

“Fuck off, Haz.” Louis scoffs, stepping back. Harry only follows. “You don’t get to twist me about because you feel sorry for me.”

“When have I _ever_ done that?” At the outrageousness of the accusation, Harry laughs, but it holds no humor. “When have I ever been anything less than honest with you?”

Pointing his face to the ceiling, Louis thins his lips. “If you liked me, then you would’ve said something.”

For a moment, Harry wants to accuse Louis of not knowing him, to assume that, but he doesn’t. He needs to explain himself, and he won’t let Louis bait him into a different argument. No matter how tempting it is.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were dumb first years,” Harry says. “When we were drinking shitty beer and you wore braces with every outfit.” Harry smiles at the image in his head, expecting Louis to huff or roll his eyes, but he only watches on, eyes wide. “I watched you sleep with prick after prick and said nothing because I just wanted you to be happy.”

“You’re in love with me?”

Retracing his words, Harry curses, miffed that he gave himself away. He bites his lip and is ready to deny it, but then thinks better, realizing this is his chance to make things right, to hold Louis in his arms and not fear letting go.

If this isn’t a dream, which Harry’s still skeptical of, then Louis’ just revealed his feelings for Harry. His anger had been blocking the feeling of it all, but suddenly it all sinks into his bones, and Harry’s ready to rip his heart out and hold it out for Louis to take.

“I am.” He nods, placing all his cards on the table. “I have been since the moment I first saw you.”

For a moment there’s nothing. The world doesn’t end, hell doesn’t open up, and there’s no reaction from Louis. For a solid five seconds, Harry’s floating, waiting to hear whether or not everything between he and Louis is ruined. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and when Louis opens his mouth to speak, Harry holds his breath.

“Then why didn’t you _say_ something?”The tension sinks out of Louis’ body suddenly, and his face is open, letting all of his exasperation and worry bleed into his expressions. “I cried to you about not being loved, I told you I felt worthless - ”

“I didn’t want you to think I was saying it to make you feel better,” Harry explains, stepping forward with his hands reached out. Louis doesn’t take them, but Harry keeps them in his reach, leaving the option. “I’m always here for you and I always want to help, but I didn’t want you saying you liked me back just because you thought I was the only one who did.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

Harry shrugs, biting his cheek at Louis’ hurt tone. “I didn’t know,” he answers honestly. “All I knew was that I was too afraid to lose you, so I sat by, hopelessly in love with you, as you went after these men who could never say no to you.”

“You big fucking idiot,” Louis spits. Harry can’t tell if he’s angry or upset or relieved. “You should’ve just said - ”

Suddenly Louis’ feelings aren’t up in the air anymore - his hands are as he throws them around Harry’s shoulders, places his hands at the back of Harry’s neck, and pulls him in, their lips meeting harshly together.

For a moment, Harry doesn’t react. He only stands still, hands pressed between his and Louis’ bodies and he watches the cabinets behind Louis’ head, eyes wide in shock. Louis takes his lack of a response as disinterest and starts to pull back, but one look at the confused wrinkle between his brows sparks Harry into motion and he leans in, capturing Louis’ bottom lip between his own, and the action blesses him with a moan from Louis.

The sound has Harry stumbling forward, walking Louis backwards until his body is pressed between Harry’s and the sink, He’s on his tiptoes, hand grasping at the baby curls at the back of Harry’s neck, pulling them free from their tight bun.

Harry’s hands are everywhere, he can’t find the right place for them. It’s been years and years of wanting, anticipating, _craving_ to have Louis’ body underneath his hands, and now that he’s faced with the reality of it, it’s overwhelming.

They move in sync, no sign of awkward kissing, unsure movements, or hesitant touches. Harry’s giving, Louis’ taking, and sparks are bursting beneath Harry’s skin.

It’s everything he’s ever pictured it’d be and _more_.

The first swipe of his tongue against Louis’ is a live wire, electricity shooting down his throat and bleeding into his veins. It adds an urgency to everything, makes Harry push Louis harder into the counter. Louis moans loader, stands higher, grabs tighter. It’s hot, and wet, and desperate, and Harry’s not sure how he ever thought he could live without this man in his arms, without his taste on his tongue.

Harry’s hands settle on Louis waist, molding themselves perfectly against Louis’ curves as his hands sneak under the fabric of Louis’ top. His apron is still on, but Harry doesn’t let it get in the way.

It makes things a bit hotter, if he’s honest.

Soon, the initial energy and determination Louis had starts to fade away, and he’s reduced to soft moans, putty in Harry’s hands as he lets the man take complete control. Harry’s tonguing Louis’ mouth, fingers biting him tightly at the hips, and pulling him flush against Harry’s body, and Louis lets him.

As Harry pulls away, Louis lets out a yawn, and Harry chuckles against his lips. “C’mon,” Harry says, pulling away, letting a hand wander into Louis’. “You’re exhausted, let’s get you to bed. We can finish talking later.”

“Come with me?” Louis looks up at him, eyes glassy and lips bitten red. Even if he wanted to, Harry couldn’t say no.

“Of course.”

Harry leads them to Louis’ room, pushing Louis towards the bed with hand on the small of his back. His hand just hardly leaves his body when Louis begins to strip himself of his clothing, sliding under the blanket. Harry does the same.

The moment they’re under the blanket together, Louis’ half on top of Harry, tongue sliding effortlessly between Harry’s lips.

The angle isn’t very forgiving, and Harry knows Louis’ soon to be useless with his exhaustion, so he wraps one hand around Louis’ wrist and rolls them both, pressing Louis’ hand gently into the pillow above Louis’ head.

This time around their kissing doesn’t last nearly as long or get half as desperate before Harry’s pulling away, peppering kisses down Louis’ neck. When he lets his teeth nibble a bit, Louis moans a high, desperate sigh.

“I thought we were supposed to be going back to sleep,” he says breathlessly.

Harry hums against Louis’ collarbone, lightly dragging his teeth down to Louis’ nipple where he gives it a peck.

“We are,” Harry assures him. “We will.” He keeps kissing down, relishing in the beautiful noises he’s pulling from Louis, but stops when he gets to a bit of marred skin. He pulls back and sees that it’s actually a scar, white against Louis’ tan skin. “What’s this?”

The question doesn’t register right away, but when it does, Louis peaks down to where Harry’s mouth rests against the scar.

“From Ben,” Louis tells him. “When the vase…” he trails off, and Harry frowns. Louis smoothes out the line between his brows. “I’m alright.”

“I shouldn’t’ve left you alone,” Harry mumbles, planting his face on Louis’ belly.

“You saved me,” Louis says softly. Harry sighs, lifting his head to look at the scar, wishing he could’ve done more, been quicker, been better. “It’s not that bad.”

It isn’t, Harry knows. As far as injuries go, it’s rather tame. In their profession - _former_ profession - the risk was much worse every time Louis slipped the microchip into the personal computers of ruthless, wealthy men. Yet Harry’s stomach twists, knowing if he hadn’t let his jealousy get in the way, he could’ve -

“I mean,” Harry sighs, needing to do something - _say_ something - to move past the dark thoughts. “If anything it’s nice to see that you’re not completely perfect.”

Louis giggles, and it’s euphonious to Harry’s ear. “Cheesy.”

To retaliate for the laughing, Harry kisses down Louis’ scar and then licks back up. Louis inhales sharply through his teeth at the feel.

“Time for bed?” Harry says it to tease, knowing he’s just riled Louis up, but instead of fighting back, Louis yawns and nods. Harry laughs at the way Louis’ shoulders seem to fall into the pillow.

“I think a nap would be good.”

As much as Harry wants to keep going, somehow lying next to Louis, cuddling together as they nap well into the morning feels much more fitting for them. He’s waited _years_ for Louis, and now that he has him, he can wait a bit longer to explore their relationship.

Afterall, he’s not going to say no to having the love of his life, pliant in his arms, snoring into his collarbone. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

➴➴➴

“Target is moving.”

Harry curses as he hears Louis yell across the bar. They’ve been at this for what has to be twenty minutes now, and they’re no closer to catching him. It’s absolutely infuriating.

It’s Niall’s turn to pay the bar tab, and instead of helping Harry and Louis force him to cover it, Liam and Zayn are back at the table laughing, watching Niall escape every attempt to grab him by the neck and drag him up to the bartender.

It’s been just over six months since Harry and Louis stopped being complete shitheads and finally admitted their feelings together, and they’re out celebrating. Zayn and Niall have spent the night arguing over who was the one to make it all happen, and it got annoying after the first few minutes, but Harry can’t complain. Not when he’s finally with the love of his life.

He can’t complain about much of anything these days.

Well, except for Niall, that is. The slimy fucker has bailed on his tab three times this month, _insisting_ Louis and Harry have the funds. And they do, years of criminal activity assuring that, but it’s about the principal of the thing.

“I’ve got him!” Louis’ shout just _barely_ floats above the noise of everything else.

Harry looks up to see Louis pointing down the hallway to the bathroom, and Harry runs through the crowd, catching up just in time to see Niall turn too quickly, hitting his arm against Louis. Almost in slow motion, Harry sees Niall’s beer go flying from it’s mug and onto Louis

The look of sheer fury on Louis’ face is a show in itself, but then Niall starts _cackling_ , the sharp noise of it echoing through the empty hallway. Harry can’t help but chuckle along.

At the noise, Louis’ eyes narrow, look right to Harry. “Why are you laughing, you arse?” His lips are pursed, and it only serves to make the whole thing funnier. “He’s gone and ruined my shirt.”

“You’ll get over it,” Niall tells him through his laughing.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Harry says. He’s stopped laughing, but he knows the humor is apparent on his face still. Louis huffs. “C’mon, it’s _funny_. We’re headed home anyway.” Louis turns away, but Harry grabs his arm to stop him. He makes Louis face him and smiles softly. “I happen to think you look nice.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Always_ ,” he insists. His sentiment doesn’t appease Louis, though, and he hits his hand on the bottom of Harry’s glass, making the liquid jump out and splash on Harry’s shirt. In the background, Niall laughs so hard he begins choking. Harry gasps at the cold feel and the _audacity_ . “That was on _purpose_.”  

“Sure was,” Louis laughs. Harry’s eyes narrow. His shirt is already sticking to his skin, and he knows the dark brown of his whiskey is going to stain the white fabric. “I happen to think you look nice.”

“I’m going to get you back,” Harry warns him, not letting himself smile, no matter how badly he wants to. “You know that right?”

Louis only rolls his eyes. He pushes Harry shoulder gently and starts to back up. “What’re you gonna do?” he teases. “Rob me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on:  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/sapphicbee) | [Tumblr](http://fourdrunksluts.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Here's a rebloggable post.](http://aceniall.tumblr.com/post/179948996238/echoes-of-your-name-inside-my-mind-23k-pairing)


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